


The Brilliant Baelish

by Panfilo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Crossover, F/M, altered names
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-08-07 20:49:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 26,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16415711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panfilo/pseuds/Panfilo
Summary: Tyrone Carraway seeks peace on Long island but he has a very noisy mysterious neighbour Peter Baelish, a man full of secrets one of which concerns Tyrone's cousin Caitlin.





	1. Invitations

**Author's Note:**

> Although I cannot pretend I like him for one second, Baelish is one of the most interesting characters in the GOT Universe. I saw similarities between him and Gatsby. Both not starting in the position they wanted (almost insignificant house/poor farmer's boy), both ambitious, both ruthless in seeing through that ambition, both flamboyant, both nouveau riche looked down on by old money, both obsessively in love with a girl they can't have but won't give up on, both devious and criminal.
> 
> This is Great Gatsby and follows the story fairly closely up to a point, after which it diverges. However there are personality and age differences which affect this story. I felt Robert was a better fit than Ned for Tom Buchanan. I admit Catelyn (Caitlin) does not make a good Daisy - she just has her role - but for the purposes of the story I don't think it could be anyone else. Tyrion (Tyrone) was an obvious Nick Carraway. Cersei (Circe) just seemed to fit in with Jordan's dishonesty and recklessness.
> 
> Robert(41), Catelyn(37), Petyr(38) are aged to bring in Sansa(17) and Arya(16). Originally Arya was not part of the plot but she becomes highly signifcant as does her sister.
> 
> Barristan Selmy (Barry) is Wilson and Ashara Dayne is Myrtle.

I was probably busy typing away, reading and ripping up pages when the card arrived. I was fairly certain nobody had knocked on the door. But when I stepped outside to greet the sun, I saw the card under a stone, picked it up and read it:

**_Party Tonight at Castle Baelish_ **

**_Special Personal Invite for Tyrone Carraway_ **

**_from Peter Baelish_ **

I had gone to Little Finger for some peace. My cousin Caitlin, her of the luxuriant red hair like a pre-Raphaelite mythical princess, had tried to persuade me to stay at her Georgian mansion one and half miles across the bay in the more fashionable Ring Finger. I got the impression she wanted me for company but with 2 daughters also there, I felt it unlikely I would receive the quiet required to write my novel. Come this evening though, this place would be no more conducive to my plans.

It was the summer of 1922 and not only the city was buzzing. After the Great War, everyone felt so alive. Excepting me, all of New York it seemed wanted to party and none more so than my mysterious extravagant next door neighbour, Peter Baelish. I say next door but truthfully it must have been at least a third of a mile between our front doors such was the size of his estate. And it was not so much a house, more a French chateau. Some found it garish, especially those from the more elegant side of the water, but I liked the look of it. If I was writing a romance it could have provided plenty of inspiration but at that time I did not really feel in the mood or indeed qualified to write that type of fiction.

I had never been successful with women but then that is a fairly common tale for anyone of my height. I lacked confidence although people seemed to enjoy my company. It did not matter how witty and charming I was, girls always left with another usually at least a foot taller. So that was why I became a writer because I was so often an observer. After Yale, being admitted to which was quite an achievement for a Louisville dwarf, I started out as a journalist. Like many juniors they sent me on dull assignments until I was able to wrangle – well someone was able to wrangle – me a position as a war correspondent and I was over in Europe before most of my fellow countrymen.

When I was about to return to the States, Caitlin’s husband, of whom I had seen a lot during the conflict, asked me about my ambition. I told him I wanted to be a writer, a proper one not just a hack, but I needed to earn my keep. His solution was to get me a place in one of his father’s banks on the kind of salary that after 3 years would allow me to take 12 months off and still be comfortable. It was hard work but I had an aptitude for figures and so here I was, living my dream ... except I lacked inspiration.

This invitation was distracting as it made me wonder whether it was out of politeness or a genuine desire to meet me. Given that it would be in the context of a party, it felt like half of New York would also be attending, the evidence suggested the former. If he truly wanted to meet me, I was here all day. That night I became an observer yet again watching the great, the good, the mischievous, the vivacious and the curious arrive. They must have wondered why I was loitering at the gates but if asked I could say I was just going for an evening constitutional and had merely stopped for a rest.

I did recognise some of the guests whose cars were buzzed in. In particular I could not miss Jamie Lancaster, the football player, who was accompanying a very tall woman. I did not know her identity by sight, but the social pages in the New York Times led me to believe she was Briony Tarf, who had become famous playing basketball at Bryn Mawr. With them was a stunning blonde about my age who waved at yours truly as though she knew me.

I was fairly startled when she wound down the window and shouted, “Are you Tyrone Carraway?”

“Yes”, I yelled back, intrigued as to how she might know insignificant me.

“Are you coming to the party? Hop in. I am sure there’s room.”

“No, not tonight. How do you know me?”

The gatekeepers were keen to wave them through as there was a queue but she ordered Jamie’s driver to halt. “You’re Caitlin Stark’s cousin, right? I am having lunch with her tomorrow”, then looking behind her she yelled at the horn honker, “Can’t you wait a damn minute?”, and then back to me, “She wants to see you”, and as the car pulled away, “Be there!”, before I had a chance to answer.

I walked back after that unexpected encounter, thinking more about her than Baelish or Caitlin. Just the incentive I needed to visit my family. Then when I settled down to write, the fireworks went off as they had at this time for the last few weeks.


	2. Ring Finger

It was not lost on me how much I owed to Caitlin’s husband Robert, however much I hated his politics. Even the car I drove down and up the 2 peninsulae – I have a fondness for every aspect of the classical world  – had a special seat fitted thanks to him. He was a practical man who believed any problem could be solved. When they still lived in Carmel, Caitlin wanted to see me so she suggested Robert buy me a car. I refused at first but what Caitlin wanted, Caitlin got and so when Robert came home he helped me choose one. Although I thought it an unnecessary extravagance and my pride would not let him buy it, he insisted an engineer made a perch for me. If I may be candid for a moment, I found long drives tortuous so I only use it for short trips or emergencies.

I arrived at King’s Landing, named by the Stark’s eldest daughter, around noon. It would probably have been just as quick to row across although I lack the extra leverage to go really quick. Caitlin bent down to give me the warmest kiss. She was still so beautiful, looking much younger than her 37 years. When I was child she was always my favourite babysitter back in Kentucky. Part of it was because she always spoke to me as though I was a regular person unlike some of the others. I was happiest in her company. It broke my heart when her family suddenly left for the east coast. It was not until I started at Yale that I saw her again. I got a post card from India shortly after she left but that was all I heard from her in the intervening period.

Lieutenant Colonel Robert Barrett Stark was a huge man in every respect. Now he was retired in as much as an officer ever is from the army and that meant for the first time in their life, they had spent the last couple of years living in the same house. They had met at a ball during his last year at West Point and according to him she captured his heart the first time they danced. There is nothing in that story as she probably would have done the same to every man she danced with, but none of the others were remotely as rich. She told me he drowned her in so many presents that she just felt overwhelmed. How could she refuse when he bought her the biggest emerald in New York State? After that they never had to spend that long together until now.

Caitlin pointed me in the direction of the blonde woman who had yelled at me last night. Holding out her hand for me to shake, she said in her husky voice, probably from smoking too much, “It was a good party last night. Next time I ask you, you better say yes.” She was so forward and confidence oozed from every pore.

I decided to play it cool, “Baelish invited me but it is not as though there won’t be another one next week.”

“Maybe I won’t be there. Maybe I will.” She gripped my hand for a long time and literally reeled me in. “I’m Circe Cecilia Lancaster by the way, commonly known as Ceecee.”

She was a professional golfer and I should have guessed she was Jamie’s sister. Last night I had failed to make the connection but now close up I could see they looked so alike. I did not follow any sport, except football because the tactics interested me, and certainly not women’s golf so I was a bit oblivious to her existence until now.

“Tyrone Carraway, but of course you know that already. Circe, Goddess of Magic, pleased to meet you. How do you know my cousin?”

“Robert sponsors me. Not that I really need his money but hell I am not dumb enough to refuse it. Cat and I used to go to a lot of parties together but with the girls home for the summer she probably won’t go out much so I need a new playmate. Are you willing?”

I just nodded. This incredibly beautiful golden haired women, sister of a man who was pretty close to being a hero of mine, was coming on to me. At least that is what I told myself.

Just then in rushed a tall girl with long straight red hair, in contrast to the fashionable waves of the women in the room, yelling, “Mummy, mummy. When can I go to a party? I saw one last night across the bay. It looked such fun.”

Circe raised her eyebrows. I could tell she had no time for kids. A pity, because I liked them and not just because I could look some of them in the eye. The story behind the odd names of the Stark sisters was simple. Caitlin always said her trip to India deeply affected her, making her see what was important in life, so when she came to name her children she picked a couple from subcontinent, Sansa and Arya. The one who took after her mother was Sansa. Maybe Arya was elsewhere in the house.

“Now go and greet Cousin Tyrone,” Caitlin instructed ignoring her pleas. The girl came over and I offered my cheek for her to kiss.

I gave the standard response in such situations. “My, you have grown.” As she bent down, I pulled a silver Peace dollar from behind her ear and gave it to her.

“Wonderful, Uncle Tyrone? What a nice surprise”, so I offered my other cheek. Sansa kissed it but I realised immediately that despite her earlier behaviour she was not a child any more however she was far too polite to do anything but please her ‘uncle’. I had seen so little of them since they were sent away to Rodean, the top girls’ school in England. Caitlin had told me she was furious about it but I found it hard to believe that this was Robert’s decision alone. Although she had always claimed that family came first for her, she also loved her freedom so she had no doubt convinced herself this was the best thing for her offspring.

Consequently the last time I had actually seen Sansa was when she was 11 at the family Christmas of 1915, so perhaps she could forgive my faux pas. “We must talk later. I want to hear all about England,” I told her before she went back to pleading with her parents. I returned to Circe until Caitlin finally dragged me away.

“Oh Tyrone, why haven’t you come earlier?”

“I’ve only been on Little Finger a month. You know I like my solitude.”

“Nonsense, you’re my favourite cousin.”

“I’m an only child.” I was teasing. She had other cousins but I knew Caitlin liked me that best, at least that is how it appeared at the rare family gatherings.

“But we haven’t seen you since last year. Thanksgiving wasn’t it? And you live so close.”

“You could have always come to Manhattan.”

“I do. Regularly. And with Circe,” nodding in her direction, “You could have been seeing her for the last couple of years instead of being buried in your work.”

“She’s a bit out of my league.”

“Nonsense, you’re charming and when I told her you’d moved to Long island she’s been dying to meet you.”

“Dying to see me, you mean?”, I sighed, used to being viewed as some sort of freak. As well as being the height of a 10 year old, I have different coloured eyes, one black, one green. Yes, everyone wanted to see me.

“No, she wanted to meet you because I told her you were witty, intelligent, good company and sweet. What did you mean?” she challenged. Well that put me in my place. Her matchmaking attempts finished for now, Caitlin moved the subject on, “In truth, I just wanted relief from Robert. He drinks too much and it is no fun having him home. Fortunately it seems he often has to attend board meetings, especially in the evening. If only I had a lover to take advantage of the situation. It is a pity we’re cousins.”

She was joking of course but I cannot pretend she was not an early object of my fantasies. However all I could say was, “In the evening? Strange.”

“You know how business is done. If it isn’t over golf, it’s in a club. I don’t worry about it and it’s nice to have my freedom, otherwise he’s just sitting at home watching me.”

My instincts were correct: she was unhappy. Once a fearsome athlete, defensive end for the Army, Robert started to put on weight as he entered middle age. It was a long time since he was quick enough to sack a quarterback like Jamie Lancaster, although I would not like to be Jamie if he did. He also boxed for the army as a heavyweight, so not a man to provoke. He maintained his army moustache but his face seem to have reddened more each time I saw him. Caitlin on the other hand seemed almost ageless although she was only 4 years younger. The only notable change in her appearance from when I used to visit her from Yale was the shortening of her hair. Nobody would have thought she was more than 30.

When we sat down to lunch, I noticed only 5 places had been set. Robert sat opposite Caitlin. I was between Sansa and her mother with Circe opposite. “Where’s Arya?” I whispered to Caitlin.

“She’s out with friends. I wish she was more like her sister. She does as she’s told.”

“You never did.”

“Then why I am here?” My cousin gave me a look suggesting she did not want an answer.


	3. Cars

During the meal, one of the servants spoke to Robert. “Excuse me Tyrone, Circe, I have to take this call,” he said as he left the table. When he returned he announced, “I am afraid I have got to go to town.”

“Actually I should be getting back as well,” said Circe, “Could you give me a lift?” After the party, one of Baelish’s drivers had taxied her to King’s Landing and she had spent the night in one of the many spare bedrooms. The Stark’s mansion was almost as large as the chateau, just less ostentatious as old money often is.

“Certainly, I would be glad of the company. What about you, Tyrone, fancy a trip to town?” asked Robert. “To be honest I could do with someone of your expertise. It concerns your bank.”

“I am finished with all that,” I said prompting a sharp kick under the table. Both women looked at me.

“Nonsense,” said Robert, “Your job’s open for a year, but it would really help me out. You know I’m not good with numbers. That’s why I joined the army.” He had spent a year at Yale where his father was a major benefactor before deciding an academic life was not for him and he transferred to West Point. There had been plenty of studying required at the academy, but he could see more of a purpose to it and it delayed his ultimate and inevitable entry into the corporate world of his father, which he loathed.

Caitlin’s wish to matchmake overcame her desire for my company. Maybe Circe was that rare creature for whom my size was not an issue and my cousin saw that as an opportunity for little me. It was not the first time Caitlin had attempted to set me up and this potential coupling had the added bonus of being with a woman I thought to be her best friend. This was before I learnt of the different morality that pervaded these Long Island communities, of which I became a colluder.

It seemed Robert was also in on the plan insisting that I sit in the back of his big blue car. “Beautiful isn’t she and made in Springfield by Rolls Royce. Smooth. How’s your car?”

“Running very well, thank you, Tom.”

“I could have had my man check it out. You’ve got to look after them. Caitlin’s got a car in the garage. She drives but it’s best she uses a chauffeur. You know her, no capacity for concentration always distracted by everything she sees, a real danger at the wheel. I don’t think women were made to drive. Tell Tyrone how many crashes you’ve had, Circe.”

“Other drivers get in my way. That’s all. I can drive as fast as any man”, she explained.    

 “Tyrone doesn’t really care for cars, do you? I bet you don’t even know its marque”, baited Robert.

“I am almost certain it’s a Ford Model T”, I replied. How could anyone not know and, even if I did not, there was a 50% chance I would be right.

“That’s correct. You should have a better one.”

“He means I should let him buy me a better one,” I explained to Circe.

“It was the least I could have done for Tyrone Carraway, war correspondent. He kept the news flowing whatever the danger.”

“Just my job, Colonel, just my job. Besides which, I like my independence.”

“Good for you, Tyrone. I like an independent man”, approved Circe. Would she be so impressed when she wemy out for a drive with me in my raised seat? I better not mention all the other ways Tom had helped me.

About halfway to Manhattan we pulled up at a garage on the industrial outskirts of Queens, where the owner decided to take charge of our service. Robert said, “Fill her up, my good man,” and then leaning back to me, “Recognise him, Tyrone?”

Looking at the oil covered man with even oilier glasses, I responded, “No, should I?”

“That’s Sergeant Barry Selm. You remember him don’t you?”

I was shocked. I had interviewed him during the war after an act of bravery for which he should have won the Medal of Honor. Instead that was given to his captain, son of a congressman. Although he was awarded the Distinguished Service Medal, it grated with him although he pleaded with me not to put in the article. He was younger than Robert then but now he seemed much older. In 4 years he looked as though he had aged 20. It almost made me want to write his story, but I had a feeling it mainly featured disappointment and home brewed alcohol.

“What happened to him?” I whispered to Robert as the war hero wiped the windshield.

“He stopped being a soldier and started having to live in the real world. I don’t recommend it.” It was odd to hear Robert compare himself to Selm like that, almost an empathy which was out of character.

Selm did remember who I was, but it is somewhat harder for life to disguise me. I wished him well and we said our goodbyes. Robert pulled up outside a railroad station where a tall girl in a fur coat got in the vacant seat at the front. They kissed. Circe leaned in, “Rob’s mistress,” as if that needed explaining.

Robert shouted back to me, “Tyrone meet Ash, Ashleigh Selm.” She turned. I was instantly struck by her violet eyes. Again my brain was telling me this was someone I should have known, but I could not place her.

“Selm? The same name as ... ?”

She completed my sentence, “My husband.” Her accent was from all over the place, certainly not from this city, but then none of us were. “I need to get away from him. Robert needs to get away from his Caitlin.”

“I’ve told you not say her name”, spoke Robert sharply. That seemed a very odd thing to say given 2 of her best friends were sitting behind him. There was an unspoken look between us which said, “If you’re not going to tell her, then I’m not either.”

I had a feeling we were not going to a meeting.


	4. Ash(ara)

We pulled up to an apartment building in Washington Heights. The conversation, which I tuned out of, had consisted mainly of Circe mocking Ash. She touched my arm every time a jab hit home, not that I think the woman from Queens recognised she was being used a target for the barbs. I was pretty sure Robert was deaf to them as well, but in his case more literally as he just could not be bothered to listen. If you were not a White Anglo Saxon Protestant male, what you said was not worth Robert’s full attention. At least I qualified. He had no prejudice against dwarfs.

When she got out of the car, I was instantly thrown back to wartime France. Ash had lost a couple of syllables now, but she was undoubtedly a cabaret dancer known by several of the US military as Ashara. I had seen her briefly at a ball held for highly decorated soldiers in Paris at the conclusion of the war. Unusually she did not remember me and I had been working trying to get some interviews, just about the last piece of journalism I did. I recalled Robert danced with her, although I remember wondering how she had got in. Most of the females there were American servicewomen invited because they were safe. Ashara’s presence was a mystery, although I guessed that was where Barry Selm met her. Perhaps she went for heroes. I did not know the route the couple had taken since, but ending up at a gas station in the grimiest area of New York suggested they had taken a few wrong turns.

If she had Circe’s wit, Ash would have reminded me of Becky Sharp, the anti-heroine of Thackery’s ‘Vanity Fair’, someone on the make who surrounded herself with soldiers, capturing them with her mesmeric eyes. She was tall as well with long brown hair, pretty enough to have any man she wanted although probably not as lithe as she had once been. I was speculating, never having been lucky enough to see her in the flesh she must have shown in her former profession. The other thing she shared with Miss Sharp was infidelity with a wealthy man. Robert had just about enough time to say “Make yourself at home”, before my cousin-in-law rushed in to the bedroom with his mistress and fucked her loudly or more likely she fucked him given that she probably would not fancy being crushed, which is certainly no concern of any woman with me.

Circe suggested we followed their example on the couch, but I said I would like to get to know her a bit more first. We chatted about golf and her brother who seemed to be her favourite subject, which was lucky because I knew a lot more about him than her, drunk some Scotch and raided the refrigerator. We were not about to disturb the lovers. Did Caitlin have any idea of Robert’s other life? Circe said my cousin had some suspicions but she considered whatever kept the colonel out of the house too be a good thing, provided of course he always came back to her and the girls. I asked if Caitlin had any lovers. The response was that she loved shopping and theatre which I knew but, though she often talked about a romantic adventure and loved hearing about other people’s, she had resisted all admirers.

Eventually our hosts came back into the living room. Robert was in his shirt and pants but Ash was in a kimono showing a hint of only silk panties on underneath.

“I see you've started without us,” observed Robert, “And the best whisky as well,” he chided. The colonel was proud of his Scottish heritage and seemed to have an endless supply of that nation’s favoured drink despite the prohibition, not that it seemed to apply to anyone of his status. “Time for a party!” he announced.

While we waited, Cersei and I learned more of the history of Ash, Robert, and Barry. She was indeed Ashara although she said she was just a simple entertainer and the wilder stories the soldiers told about her were greatly exaggerated. Her parents had met in Dakota where her father had been a prospector in the 1870s and her Quebecer mother had come looking for a fortune as well. They then followed the gold around North America until her father was killed in an accident in Colorado just after she was born. Her mother took her to California where she was brought up speaking French and English. Times were hard and eventually her mother decided to move them to France around 1910, which is how she came to be there at the start of the war.

Robert had visited her on many occasions but they never had sex because he said he had a family. Circe and I shared a disbelieving glance. Since he was unmarried, Barry had asked if he could bring a local girl to the heroes’ ball. The authorities agreed. On the night of the dance, Robert spotted Ashara, but she told him that if he wanted her, he would have to divorce. He refused. Ash was furious and made her mind up to punish him by saying she would marry the lowliest available soldier there, who she quickly realised was the one who had taken her. They left early and she fucked his brains out ensuring they were married within a week.

It did not take her long to realise her mistake. The one thing they ended up having in common was a love of moonshine which had hit him worse than her. Stupidly, he had left the army to be with the woman loved - a decision they would both come to regret. Selm had used what he had saved to buy the gas station. When Stark moved to Ring Finger, he had stopped at the ex sergeant’s garage. Barry told Ash about the encounter and how Robert had promised to always to fill up at his pumps from now on. From then on nothing would deflect her from watching the forecourt for his next visit. She managed to divert Barry’s attention for a minute and that was all it took to rekindle Robert’s passion. They had enough time to for Robert to write down his telephone number and, posing as his secretary, Ash was able to fool his servants and Caitlin. Thus the relationship was renewed without condition and why Robert had bought this hideout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only just now realised Ash was appropriately by the Valley of the Ashes.


	5. Small Party

The food and guests arrived including Major Oberon Martell, who served as Robert’s aide-de-camp during the war, and Robert’s brother Renton. At least the colonel still got on well with his youngest brother. The middle one, Stanley, had ambitions to be US Attorney General if not President. He had expressed disgust at some of his father’s business practices, but I could not help feeling part of this was a reaction against Robert being the favoured son. Stanley was a conservative Democrat, whereas Robert was a liberal Republican, at least that is what he told himself before banging on about immigration. Renton was accompanied by Laurie and Marge Tyrell, whose grandmother ran a major light engineering company. The trio were well known on the New York Scene. I barely knew Renton to speak to and his entourage not at all.

Oberon Martell was immense fun. He suited Robert and me and it is fair to say that he had shared adventures with both of us during the war. This is one of the reasons apart from my cousin-in-law’s generosity that I gave Robert a long rope. It would be fair to say we were a wild bunch particularly when it came to drinking and women, although because of Caitlin, the superior officer held himself back in my presence but today had proved that time had passed. Maybe he felt he owned me. Martell was descended from the English aristocracy and seemed to have that same lazy ease of entitlement that many of those people possess. He was brave, foolhardy, without shame and above all charming. He came with his girlfriend, the dusky, Ella Sand and her eighteen year old niece, the bouncy Tiana.

“No kissing, at least in my sight,” yelled Robert as unthreateningly as any 20 stone military man could, as Renton’s lips met Laurie’s.

“It is OK brother, I’ll be discreet,” said Renton but I saw his hand on the younger man’s cock. Robert was one to talk. I had seen his hand slip under Tiana’s dress to squeeze one of her breasts. Hard to blame him as they were incredibly perky and neither she, nor her aunt seemed to mind in the slightest.

The room was so full of beautiful woman my own cock was hard as a rock and while Robert’s behaviour was crude I was envious. It was not long before Ash levered her away with a “Get your own, your little bitch.” Tiana was about to react when Ella caught her arm and whispered in her ear. The niece laughed and calmed down. Asha was out of place in this company and I barely qualified.

It turned out Circe was also an observer of life and enlightened me to all the sordid little details about everyone there. “It could be that you and Robert are the only heterosexual men in this room,” she whispered below the music.

“How do you know I am?”

Brushing her hand against the tip of my hard on, “Because you were not looking at those 2,” indicating Renton and his boyfriend, “when this happened,” she said glancing down.

“What about the women?” I naturally inquired.

“Well that would be telling. People say I’m a very bad girl. You see Tiana, the little sexpot?”

“Don’t tell me?”, I said fingers at my head, “On Sundays, she eats your cunt.”

My golden haired companion laughed, something she did a lot, “No, silly. I don’t think she’s the Sand woman’s niece. I’m sure I heard somewhere that she and Oberon had children before and after he was married and Tiana’s one of them. I mean, look at their skin! I am surprised Robert let them in.”

It was true Ella and her daughter had Indian features but Ella was olive hued rather than brown and the daughter could certainly pass for white. I knew from experience the racist in the room seemed far more tolerant of attractive women. Knowing how bravely black Americans had fought during the war, I had hoped he could get over his prejudice but sadly it had not happened yet.

“I see it but if she is Oberon’s daughter, no wonder she’s so forward.”

“Which of us here isn’t, apart from you and Marjorie?” pointing to the mousy haired girl who looked even more like her brother than my companion looked like hers and though she engaged easily enough with everyone she seemed short of a partner. Circe was correct, there were not enough men here. I would have gone to talk to the pretty Tyrrell girl but I was stuck between Robert and Circe in a dip on the sofa and had trouble moving.

“What’s the story with her?”

“No-one’s good enough for her. She’s been seen out with Renton but that’s a non-starter.”

“Perhaps, they have threesomes.”

“What with her brother?” said Circe incredulously.

“Yeah, sorry,” I apologised

“I hope you don’t think I make love to Jamie,” she chortled. The thought had not entered my head until then.

“It would be like making love to yourself,” I opined.

“Something I am sure you know a lot about.” Harsh, but fair.

“Tiana’s so advanced, and to think she’s the same age as Sansa. I wish I’d been as bold at her age.”

Actually Caitlin’s younger taller doppelganger was 18 in a few weeks. There would probably be a party and I would have to find a present, but Circe was right. From my brief time at Ring Finger, I got the impression she was still naïve and younger than her years despite her size. I had no idea what an English girls’ boarding school was like but I doubted if they had parties like this.

“Look, Sansa’s family and I wouldn’t be happy to see her behaving like this.”

“Don’t get all boring on me. You sound like Caitlin.”

“I thought Caitlin was your best friend.”

“She is, but she still believes her daughters are little girls.”

“So do I,” I admitted although to be fair I had seen very little of them to judge and Arya had still been small the last I had seen of her, even if she was somewhat more lively. “Caitlin …” I started.

“Caitlin, Caitlin, Caitlin!” shouted Ash who had overheard us, “Even when she’s not here, she is.” When had she ever been here? I could not believe they had ever even met although maybe Robert had shown her pictures.

“I told you not to say her name,” Robert barked the bark of a man whose conscience had been pricked. “I love her and you’ll just have to get used to that, you silly woman.”

“Maybe I’ll come to Sansa’s 18th. Show her what kind of girl you really like,” the temptress said grabbing hold of Tiana, who promptly stamped on her foot. Oberon stared daggers at Robert. This was turning nasty very quickly. Sometimes Robert was not a happy drunk. I hoped he would get some sleep before we went back.

“You leave my fucking daughter out of this, you bitch,” and he slapped Ash, grabbed her arm and dragged her into the bedroom.

The party quietened. The music stopped and the rest of us got to know each other. I was sure Ash could handle him. Growing up as she did I guessed she was by far the toughest woman there and I knew my cousin-in-law well enough to know he would regret his actions and probably buy her an expensive present to apologise. Still I wondered when we could leave. It was too late to get a train.

It was well past midnight when we left Manhattan after our host had sobered up a little following a couple of hours sleep. How does a man that size get drunk so quickly anyhow? Maybe he was playing. On the backseat Circe had put her hand down my pants and started to wank me as she looked earnestly into my eyes but after Ash had turned around to speak to us I stopped it. It just felt too public.

“Don’t worry I’ll get you,” said Circe, “Robert, Caitlin, Jaime and I always get what we want,” she said. I did not respond. Was this what Caitlin wanted?

Robert dropped off Ash within sight of the garage and we stopped for while. I speculated that she would explain the bruise to her husband by saying she had been assaulted on the way back from the train. Perhaps the police had interviewed her and dropped her off near the garage so as not to wake him. He would be suspicious but he could not prove anything. Robert waited a few minutes so if Barry was looking out he would not connect him with her. The rest of the journey passed uneventfully.

Circe stayed the night at King’s Landing but after the butler made us coffee, I drove back to the less prestigious side of the water. Before going to sleep, guilt overcame me and I vowed to stop accepting Robert’s help. I wanted to see Caitlin alone away from the brute. She deserved better.


	6. Big Party

The following week, one of my wealthy neighbour’s stewards called on me to deliver an identical invitation to earlier stressing that Baelish really wanted to see me at the next party. I said I could just come back with him now but he replied that his employer was a very busy man and the party was the only time he had free. I said I would think about it. Maybe I would see Circe again and it was possible I needed a muse for my writing.

Instead of walking to the gates this time, I drove. It was still a fair distance to the magnificent chateau, which looked huge but in some way lacked the power and authority of the more understated King’s Landing. The many trees looked tiny against the façade and it was somewhat wild and untended compared to the formality of the Stark’s property. An attendant parked my car for me. Given the vast amount of vehicles, I hoped I could find it again when I came to leave, although then I remembered I could just as well walk home and pick it up the next morning. As it was a fine evening the party was in front of the house, on a magnificent lawn rolling down to the bay almost exactly opposite the Starks’s residence.

The shindig was already in full swing with jazz bands and circus entertainment. Yet this was not a place for kids. It was a place prohibition had not touched and most were enjoying elaborate cocktails made of every conceivable fruit suffused with vodka and other spirits. I spotted Circe and went over to greet her.

“You made it!” she exclaimed, “This is Tyrone Carraway, the famous journalist,” and when that did not register with most of her crowd, “Robert Stark’s cousin”, which earned me nods of approval despite the slight exaggeration. “Come sit with us. Isn’t it absolutely ghastly?” Much as I enjoyed the attractive golfer’s company, very soon after, I decided I did not want to spend my time with a lot of self-satisfied Ring Finger snobs commenting on just how superior they were. And besides which, this was not ghastly, this was magical.

“Later, Circe,” I said kissing her, “I want to mingle.” This did not seem to impress the assembled company. My real mission was to seek out the host so I interrogated party guests. Very few recognised me, some thought I was part of the entertainment, but none could provide any better directions to Baelish other than, “I think he’s in the house if he’s here at all.”

After climbing up one branch of the epic curved staircase, which led to the second floor and a balcony overlooking the strangely quiet ballroom, and back down the other side, I sat down on a sofa in the huge entrance hall to rest my legs and drink in the luxury.

“Do you want to smoke, old sport?” said a small smart man with a pointed beard, like some figure from the Spanish Inquisition although much paler.

“No thank you. Climbing those stairs was enough adventure for one day.”

“Are you sure, they’re the best Dominican.”

“Quiet sure. No room in my lungs for smoke.” The truth is I had quit after the war because some doctor was convinced it would help my breathing, another reason I preferred to walk than drive. Before that I had shared plenty with Robert and Oberon. Not Caitlin though. Only the thinnest cigarettes were for her, although she smoked the occasional cheroot, another legacy of her Indian sojourn. Circe had smoked a huge one at the party and I did not need to be Freud to imagine what message that conveyed.

“Swell party”, I opined.

“It’s only just started. The later it gets, the wilder it gets. I like to sit back and watch, especially the comings and goings in the hall. Whenever I see an older man with a younger woman who’s not his wife run up that staircase, I just know they’re seeking out an unoccupied bedroom.”

“How many bedrooms are there?”

“15, I believe, and 10 bathrooms, not including mine, of course.”

“Oh you’re staying here.”

“You could say that, old sport.”

“I didn’t know Baelish had guests.”

“How could you? You’ve never met him before.”

“How did you …,” and then the realisation came over me, “Oh, sorry I have been an idiot.”

“Not at all, old sport. Baelish, Peter Baelish, at your service.” We both stood up and he shook my hand. He was barely a foot taller than me.

“Tyrone Carraway, your neighbour but obviously you know that,” I surmised.

“I am so delighted you have come. I have much to show you.”

“I am not a reporter any more. You are not going to get a write up.”

“No, you misunderstand, I just want us to be friends.”

Looking outside I said, “Seems like you have enough friends.”

“I don’t care who these people are, I just hope they are having a good time.”

“Really?”

“You caught me, old sport,” he smiled, “I don’t want this friendship to start off with a lie. The truth is I know each and every one of them even those I haven’t invited, but they don’t know me.”

“So this party is for their benefit.”

“Not exactly, old sport, follow me!”

He led me upstairs to his bedroom as we passed other rooms from which emanated grunting, wailing and other animal noises. “I hope you don’t mind if we keep the light off. Some people might object to being watched.” His room was pure white, his bed in the shape of a heart with silk sheets. He took a pair of opera glasses from a drawer and beckoned me to a window. He then proceeded to point out several prominent New Yorkers who he described as playing homage to him, although clearly they or their wives, girlfriends and mistresses were just there for the fun. Every party was bigger he told me; every week he caught more fish in his net.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the point if you can’t overhear what they are saying?” I asked going into full journalism mode.

“Oh but I can, old sport. I can,” without further explanation, but as I scanned around there seemed to be a waiter in proximity to each of the men he had indicated. He clearly had a spy network. “The more you know about a man, the easier he is to do business with,” he told me.

“And secrets?” I enquired rather too keenly.

“Good heavens no, old sport,” he said with a mock shocked expression. “What I mean is what their interests are, where they go on holiday, family details, so when I meet them I make them feel a connection as I adapt who I am.” I heard what he said but I could not help feeling he did learn more interesting information as well. With the trees in the front and the bedrooms upstairs there were plenty of opportunities for clandestine meetings as well. It would not have surprised me in the least if all the telephones in all the rooms were tapped, such was my opinion about my intriguing host already.

One thing that should have given Peter Baelish’s identity to me earlier was his attire. The cream suit he wore that night was tailored to within an inch of his life and he was very proud of it. He showed me his wardrobe which seemed to stretch half way to Manhattan. Some of it was classy, more of it was loud, very little was quiet and all of it was very expensive. This man had wealth similar to Robert and Caitlin. I began to wonder whether the apparently unassuming man I had shared a couch with earlier had just adopted that persona for my benefit. Surely everyone must know who he was even though his pictures never appeared in the papers.

“I want you come around the day after tomorrow, old sport,” he told me, “I want you to show the rest of the castle and tell you my history? Are you interested?”

“Just to be clear,” I insisted, “I left journalism in France, but I should like to be friend.”

“Simply marvellous. I just knew we’d get on the moment I met you. The last thing I need is a biographer, well until death catches up with me.”

“Is it likely to?”

Baelish smiled his warm smile once again, “Not if I stay vigilant, old sport. And on that note I have some work to do tomorrow, so if you would excuse me,” he rang a bell, “Henderson will show you back to the party. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” and with that a heavy arrived and marched me down the stairs.


	7. Arya

My first thought was to seek out Circe. Her little group had broken up, presumably bored with themselves, and had no doubt headed back to the comfort of Ring Finger where everybody knew everybody else’s status. I looked everywhere but could not find her. As the crowd began to gather for the traditional firework display, I spied somebody else I thought I knew having seen her photograph just a few days earlier; somebody who should not have been there. Stealthily I crept up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.

“What?” she turned and threw her drink on me, “Fuck you, now I’ll have to get another.” She was obviously drunk. I caught her arm before she could escape.

“No you won’t!”

“And who are you, little man? You can’t tell me what to do.” Her eyes were clearly attempting to focus and failing.

A young man intervened, “Leave her alone you disgusting old dwarf.”

“Jake, stop!”, the girl protested, “I think it’s my cousin.”

“I don’t care. Nobody treats you like that” and he swung at me. He missed. I am a small target and have had to learn to fight dirty from an early age. He was on his back within seconds when one of Baelish’s bouncers dragged him off, apologising to me.

The 16 year old Arya Stark attempted to leave with him but once more I held her getting a bite for my trouble. Out of character, I threatened to hit her. I have spent way too much time with Robert, I thought. This is not me. I had never struck a woman let alone a girl.

I virtually dragged her to my car. 1 or 2 guests confronted me but I was able to explain that we were both Starks, always a useful and almost true falsehood, and they could see what state she was in. Helpfully there were always members of Baelish’s workforce to back me up.

Once in the Model T she decorated the black with her vomit.

“Uncle Tyrone, I don’t feel so good.”

“I’ll take you back home and clean you up.”

“I can’t go home like this.”

“No, I meant my home. It’s a very short trip and you can have a bath. I shall try and scrub your clothes before driving you back to your mother.”

“Thank you uncle. I’m sorry. I think I may have had too much to drink,” she slurred. “Don’t be hard on Jake. He’s just a friend looking out for me. You sure know how to fight, uncle.”

“Yes I do.” In addition to my upbringing, Oberon had taught me a few of his special moves.

I ran a bath and had to undress her, although I left her to get out of her underwear. She had grown. Still smaller than average but I guessed she was a good 8 inches above me when she eventually stood up straight. Her face had always taken after her father which was slightly unfortunate when she was younger, but now she was growing into her looks,  it would be fair to say she was becoming pretty. She would never rival her mother or sister, but I loved her just as much.

She was perfectly safe in my hands although I did have to check regularly when I detected a lack of noise just to make sure she was not falling asleep. I had kept the water low in the tub but they say it takes very little to drown. Her breasts were dramatically largely than the last time I saw her, firm and round rather than the tear shape of Caitlin’s. I had not seen Sansa’s recently in anything revealing enough to judge but I imagined they were like her mother’s when Caitlin was younger. Trying hard not to glance at her pubic region, I passed her a bath robe and made her a coffee while her clothes dried by the fire.

Arya was able to dress herself and just before dawn we set off for King’s Landing. She slept in the back of the car until we approached the house, where she instructed me to drop her off out of sight of any family or staff. Caitlin and Robert were getting used to her being late in but not after midnight. She claimed they would have no idea she had not been in her bed all night as they thought she had turned in early only for her to climb down from her room, take a rowing boat and rendezvous with her neighbour Jake. He was not her boyfriend but thought he was even though she had never even let him kiss her. 

I said goodbye, wished her well, and exhausted as I was drove back in the light to the other peninsular. I was very glad Baelish had not suggested we meet tomorrow as I hit the hay.


	8. Baelish

Peter shouted to me as I walked along the drive. “Hope it wasn’t too long a walk. Why didn’t you drive, old sport?”

“Exercise is always good,” I shouted back.

“But don’t you have to take twice as many steps?”

“Don’t you?”

“That’s why I don’t walk,” he answered, “Who cares that we are pygmies in stature because in our hearts we are giants among men.” I guess all this talk about height was his way of trying to relate to me, very much in keeping with his business technique, but it did seem rather crude. Still, he meant well, I think.

We shook hands before he took me on a tour of the house. Every room was decorated in a different style, each magnificent in their own way but taken together completely incongruous. Whichever mood you were in, wherever in the world you wanted to go, there was a place for you. It was classical, oriental, baroque, European, modern, western, a cornucopia of styles and objects, in parts almost overwhelming in its opulence. There was a Turkish bath, a sauna and a swimming pool in a conservatory.

“Inspiring isn’t it”, Baelish boasted, “Whenever you feel like it, pop over. There’s even a secret entrance in the south wall that will make your walk a lot shorter. I’ll give you the key.”

“You said you were going to tell me about yourself.”

“And I will and I already have.” That was true because what I had seen was a man obsessed with show, with trying to prove himself, to give the impression he was well educated which in fairness he appeared to be. If I were another man or doing my previous job I might attempt expose him, but that would have been a discourtesy given how nice he was being to me.

“I have a surprise for you. Follow me,” he instructed. We went down to a large boathouse on the water but in it was not a boat but a plane. “I had it delivered yesterday. Do you want to join me in a spin, old sport?” It would not have been the first time I had been in one of these contraptions so the only thing that worried me was the pilot.

“I take it this is not your first time?” I asked warily.

“Good heavens, no, old sport. I have had several lessons. I promise we’ll just fly around the Fingers. No more than 15 minutes, tops.”

“OK,” I agreed.

“Splendid.”

He was a competent pilot. We went south down the bay and then up Ring Finger. “One day,” he shouted from the front as we passed over Caitlin’s house, “all of this will be mine.

“You’re joking?”

“If you don’t have ambition, you’ll get nowhere, old sport,” he yelled back.

We passed over his estate then on to Queen’s as far as Selm’s garage, back to Little Finger and up the bay to land. I must admit it was exhilarating even for such an experienced air passenger as I was. Normally I had just flown over fields or water, not a city where I could see the roads I had travelled on. After my initial trepidation, I now wished we had flown over Manhattan.

Upon our return, we climbed one of the chateau’s towers. This was decorated in a medieval style with tapestries of courtly love adorning the spaces between the windows.

“This is my favourite room in the castle,” he said staring out of the window, “especially at night.” He invited me to look through his telescope.

I was surprised that it was pointed directly at King’s Landing. “See over there,” he said, “Those people resent me.”

“What the people in that house?”

“Which house?”

“The big Georgian mansion opposite.”

“Oh that one. I can’t guess what you are looking at, old sport, but no. I mean the Ring Finger set. I see them at my parties, come here to snipe instead of enjoy. It must be terrible to be that cynical. Myself, I am an optimist. Everybody’s worth something not just them. We have a great country but we need it to work for everyone.”

“You won’t get any disagreement from me.”

“I saw you last night. You sat with them. I can’t tell you how pleased I was when you got up so quickly.”

“Were you spying on me?”

“I told you I know everybody and everything they do. I have to stay ahead of the game.”

“Well that house belongs to Robert Stark of the Stark Group and he’s married to my cousin Caitlin.”

“Interesting? Is that why you live were you do.”

“Partly,” I conceded.

“So are you one of them, old sport?”

“Look at the size of my house? What do you think?”

“Just teasing, old sport? I knew who lived there. Listen, could you do me a favour? I would very much like Robert Stark and his wife to come over. I would prefer at a party. I don’t want to seem too forward. Are you going over there soon?”

“I hadn’t planned to.” If Caitlin had her way, I would be over there every other day but as I have mentioned before, I wanted to avoid distractions.

“I am sure they don’t think much of this little place, but if you could persuade them, I would be eternally grateful.”

“Just so long as you don’t try to talk business with Robert. He hates that.”

“Talking with Robert is the last thing on my mind,” he muttered under his breath. I wondered if he intended me to hear that. “I just feel that if I can get him on side then maybe they,” meaning the people on the other side of the bay, “would look better on me. You understand that, I hope, old sport.”

It was true that I had only brief exposure to those snobs but I felt sure he was being over generous with their character, so I replied, “I am sure they are not worth bothering with. Why worry about them when you have this place. The rest of the party goers seemed to love it.”

“Like I said, old sport, I’m an optimist. I’ll get my man to give you an open ended invitation for them. Please try, for my sake.”

Eventually he told me his story. He had been born as Peter Ball on the West Coast of Ireland in extreme poverty, stowed away on a ship to America when he was just 14 and ended up working on the showboats of the south. Then he came east after a girl he loved, and planned to elope with, suddenly disappeared. Now calling himself Baelish to stand out from the crowd, he used a gift for numbers and a photographic memory to enter the financial world. Working day and night to get qualifications he impressed so much that a leading banker, whose name I noticed he did not give, sponsored him to go to Oxford.

Baelish returned to New York but discovered that he could only get so far with his background so moved into what he described as more lucrative less approved of activities. He had been doing very well with his clandestine empire until Prohibition came in, which he was ideally placed to exploit. Baelish was not specific but I got the impression he was involved in all kinds of vice, none of it traceable back to him. He used the money he made from that for an increasing portfolio of legitimate businesses as well as advising many wealthy men on tax or rather how to hide their money.

Peter, although he preferred being referred to as Baelish due to the uniqueness of the name, told me all this because he knew it would appeal to me. He said he had contacts all over the world and was favoured in many countries who recognised his worth much more than some did in New York.

“So why are you in New York? Why not somewhere else if you want respect?” I asked.

“Money. This is the centre of wealth. Europe’s time is over and this is the land of opportunity. Wealth is concentrated in Manhattan like nowhere else.”

As I walked home that evening through the secret gate, I did not buy his explanation entirely. There were mainly other places where fortunes could be made by a clever man well away from the vigilant gaze of US officials. At the time I thought it was pure stubbornness. He wanted those Ring Fingerers to have to respect him. They never would.


	9. Sansa

At Baelish’s next party I hooked up with Cersei again. Our host did not put in an appearance and when I took the blonde upstairs in attempt to see him, his staff blocked my way and told me he was out. He had rung a couple of times since our meeting and was not best pleased that I was yet to visit the Starks since our last meeting, although he expressed that disappointment quite charmingly.

I was going to return to my house with my almost girlfriend but she said we should fuck in Jamie’s car and maybe our voyeuristic host could watch us through his telescope, so we did. It was cramped, more so for her, and I came on her thigh. I told her I could not believe Jamie would make love to Briony there but she laughed and said that would never happen. Just to be clear she informed me that though she enjoyed my company, this was just a fling for now and I was not to get jealous until she decided I should. I said that was fine for now. Then she drove me home.

The following week I drove over to Ring Finger to attend Sansa’s 18th birthday party with presents, one of which Cersei had helped me select in Manhattan. There was more than a touch of Kentucky thanks to Caitlin which made a change from the flappers. Our hostess was certainly in her element and Robert was largely behaving himself. Arya was the first to greet me flinging her arms around me and whispering, “They caught me, you know. I am grounded for a week. I don’t want to be here wearing this stupid dress.”

Obviously Caitlin had chosen it; an ethereal white number totally out of keeping with her younger daughter’s character whereas the birthday girl was wearing a haute couture green ball gown that had been specially made for the occasion.

“Sansa, you look absolutely beautiful. Even your mother would be jealous,” I told her, “And here is a little something you can wear to your next party.”

“Thank you, uncle. I’m so happy you’re here. We’ve missed you.” She opened the package “Fior di Lilla. Let me smell it.” She dabbed some on her neck. “Absolutely divine. What do you think, uncle?”  as she lowered herself down almost sticking her wonderful cleavage in my face which made me able to confirm she was a match for a mother and maybe a little extra.

“You’ll be fighting the boys off at your next ball.”

She beamed, “Do you really think so?”

“I know so,” as I am sure she did. There were a lot of Ring Finger families there but no sign of Jake, fortunately. Perhaps he was grounded too, but there were plenty enough eligible young bachelors to catch the daughters’ eyes.

“I have brought you another present too, Sansa. It is quite special and I hope you like it. Now you’re 18 you might think yourself too old for it but it is beautiful like you.”

“Oh I can’t wait to open it. Thank you, Uncle Tyrone,” and once more was presented with a spectacular view of the deep and wide canyon as she kissed me.

Needless to say it was very different from a Gatsby part, very formal and nobody sneaking upstairs although Circe did suggest it.

“How is my favourite cousin?” said Caitlin, “I see you and CeeCee are really hitting it off. I knew you would. I hope you settle down and become our neighbours. Wouldn’t that just be the best?”

“Cat, we’ve only just met.”

“More than met. Ceecee told me what happened at the party.” I presumed she was talking about the one in Little Finger rather than the one in Washington Heights, and as I was unaware of just what her best friend had told her, I just nodded. Much as I wanted to, I decided Sansa’s party was not the time to enquire about her marital relationship, so instead I complemented her on Sansa and how much she reminded me of her at that age.

“Before I had to leave, you mean?”

“Mmmm yes,” I said not sure if she was going to give me a big revelation that she previously had failed to apprise me off.

“I was a bit wild in those days, more Arya than Sansa, except I wore nice clothes of course and did not get quite so dirty. But I would sneak off just like Arya to meet up with boys.”

“Well I cannot say I am too surprised. I remember you once brought one to our house.”

“You said you didn’t mind.”

“I was just being polite. Of course I minded not having my beautiful babysitter’s undivided attention. I was very advanced for my years. I longed to kiss those cherry lips.”

“You could now, but people would talk,” so I had to settle for more lipstick on my cheek to match that of her daughter’s. “My parents worried about me and now I worry about Arya.”

“Not Sansa?”

“Oh know. She’s very grounded. A romantic of course but she always asks permission. By the way, you are staying the night, I hope?”

“Yes.”

“But not with Ceecee, please Tyrone. I’ll be watching the corridor like a hawk.”

“Hawks mainly look down,” I pointed out spiking her analogy, “I don’t like being looked down upon.”

“Don’t be so pedantic. If my daughters weren’t here it would all be fine, but I have enough trouble with Robert. Look at him ogling our neighbour’s daughter. He disgusts me. Let’s not talk about him,” even though I could sense she wanted to.

After dinner and the dancing which I tried to avoid but was forced to join in with all my female relations, Sansa came up to me and kissed me once more, providing a moment’s relief from Circe’s acid quips, which as usual hit the bullseye 9 times out of 10.

“Oh Uncle Tyrone, that’s the best present I have ever had.” It was a beautifully illustrated book of fairy tales that I had had to import from Europe. It had been expensive but I could not think of anything more appropriate for her. “Come upstairs with me.”

“Are you sure? What would people say?”

“That you are very lucky boy, silly. Come on.”

She led me to her pink fluffy room where she picked up some binoculars. “I say it is because I want to watch the stars but I would rather watch people. Look over there”, she said, indicating Catle Baelish. “Now that is real romance. That’s where I want to live. A land of proper fantasy not like this government building we live in. I want a knight to put me in a tower in his chateau.”

“Keep you prisoner for himself?” I suggested.

“At first maybe, but gradually I’d win him over and host the biggest balls in the kingdom.”

“Aren’t you worried he’d take advantage of you?”

“No, he’d be perfectly charming and would not do anything to hurt my honour. He’d only have captured me because he was at war with my parents.”

“Your parents?”

“Well obviously my mother would be dead and my father, a king, would be besotted with the false magical beauty of my wicked stepmother.”

“Let me get my notebook. I need to write this down for a future novel”, and we giggled.

I spent the night alone. There was one knock on the door but not from the person I was expecting. It was Arya come to thank me properly for last week but it was really to ask me if I had any alcohol because her mother was watching her “like a hawk”?

“Funny, she said the exact thing to me,” I recounted truthfully, but did not let her in.

The next morning when only I remained of the guests, I pulled out the invitation.

“Oh mother can we go?” appealed Sansa as she had done during my last visit.

“The invitation is only for me and your father.”

“You can bring guests,” I interceded on Sansa’s behalf. I noticed Arya kept quiet. Either the party would have lost her magic if she attended with them or possibly she just did not want to be associated with them.

“CeeCee says they can be a bit wild”, argued Caitlin. Especially if she’s there, I thought.

“I am 18 now,” said Sansa proudly.

“18 going on 12,” opined Arya.

“Robert?” asked Caitlin.

“Of course she can come.”

It is not an overstatement to say everyone else in the room was very surprised at Robert’s response. He had always been overly and aggressively protective of his daughters especially the elder one, but maybe he remembered the time he met his wife, although that was a very different occasion to the one they would face at Castle Baelish.

“What?” he said picking up on the atmosphere and looking from face to face, “You’re a young woman, now. You’ve got to grow up.”

“Oh great!”, muttered Arya with enough sarcasm to fill the bay between the houses.

Her father leaned across, “You can come too … in 18 months.”

“Ha ha, very funny. Any party Sansa goes to is bound to be dull because she’s there.”

“Jealous?” questioned the taller Stark sibling.

“Stop it, you two! It is bad enough I have to go. Maybe I’ll have another business meeting.” I shook my head and Robert raised his eyebrows.

“Great,” said Caitlin, “We can see how the other half lives.” Peter would be pleased.


	10. Dinner

“We could try the bedrooms again,” urged Circe.

“Not today,” I said, “I’m waiting to see what happens if Baelish decides to meet Robert. I presume he will. He was very keen to invite them.”

“Robert’s not why he’s invited them,” replied my wild golden haired lover.

“What do you mean?” I truly had no idea at that stage. Did she just mean he wanted to ingratiate himself with the Starks or Ring Finger in general as gaining the approval of the richest of the rich meant surely the rest would follow?

“Just watch … if you must. And afterwards, can we fuck?”

“At my home?”

“Where’s the fun in that? Let’s fuck in Baelish’s bed since you denied me at King’s Landing.”

“I did not,” I protested falsely, “You never came.”

“I saw you with the daughter. Bit young, surely, even if she is the right size for you.”

“Sansa?” I said assuming she was mocking our height difference.

“No, the other one. Harry or whatever she calls herself.”

“You know full well, she’s Arya, and she’s 16! And no, she just came to thank me.”

“For what?”

“That’s between me and her.”

“Huh, secrets? I was going to tell you mine, but you’ll have to wait now.” Much as I wanted to hear what she had to reveal, I was not going to betray Arya. As a journalist, if I had promised somebody something was off the record, they could rest assured that it would be. I had to maintain trust and trust was not something you could give Circe.

Caitlin and Robert arrived, eldest daughter in tow. It did not take Caitlin long to find the Ring Finger group. I saw her and Sansa have a brief row. Later, I found out it was due to the daughter wanting to explore the chateau while the mother wanted her well chaperoned by her own crowd. Robert was off seeking other powerful men and some whisky. Circe and I moved over to join the girls. Fairly shortly afterwards Circe persuaded Caitlin to meet her brother, although I had not seen him at the party. When I got up to go with them, Circe gave me one of those looks which made me realise I was going to have to babysit.

Surrounded as we were by Caitlin’s neighbours, I did wonder why Sansa needed extra protection. I saw the 2 women enter the castle, emerging 15 minutes later with its owner. They collected Robert and walked over to us. As they approached, Peter seemed to do a double take throwing him off his stride for a second.

“Tyrone, my friend, and who is this vision of loveliness?”

“I’m Sansa Stark, if you please.”

“Forgive me, I could have sworn you were twins,” he said looking back and forth between Caitlin and his latest acquaintance. The mother was flattered and you may have thought the daughter less so, but she took it as the compliment it was intended to be.

“And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?” Sansa was trying hard with her transatlantic accent.

“Baelish, Peter Baelish.”

“Oh, you own all this?” she said excitedly, realising who he was.

“Well this is my home in Long Island,” implying that this was a fraction of his wealth, “You should visit Europe.”

“Now then, Baelish, you leave my daughter alone,” her father said, threateningly.

“Of course, of course. I was just making conversation,” replied the host but I could tell they had been instantly struck by each other. “Come to my dining room, chef has a little something prepared.”

This was one of the more conventional rooms in the house with a grand fireplace and Victorian décor, not like the great medieval hall I had seen elsewhere which could probably seat up to 30. The 6 of us sat down: Baelish opposite Robert at the ends of the table with Caitlin next to Peter and opposite me on my cushioned chair alongside Circe with our backs to the main party outside. Turning my head I could see a couple of Baelish’s heavies ready to intercept any curious voyeurs.

There was a big contrast between the 2 wealthy men facing each other. One slim, immaculate and controlled, every hair in place, the other already looking a bit unkempt with a stain on his waistcoat from some canapé he had spilt, too wealthy to care. A few years ago, he would have been just as bothered about his appearance as his host but Robert was not seeking to impress especially with the present company and those outside he needed to know, already knew him. There was a hint of nervousness about Baelish, but the heir to the Stark fortune was as bold as ever.

“So Baelish,” with obvious contempt in his voice, “How did you come to own all this lot?”

“A gentleman never tells,” Peter defended still looking from mother to daughter with a little shake of his head.

“Oh come on, Baelish. You know where my money comes from. What’s so special about yours?”

“Gentlemen, let’s not fight,” appealed Caitlin, feeling the tension in the room already.

“I’m only asking a question, woman” said Robert ignoring his wife’s appeal.

“Alright then, if you have to know. I’m a consultant with many and varied holdings. My interests are wide ranging. If I see opportunity, I take it.”

“I get it. You don’t want to tell me. How much did this place cost you?”

“I don’t really remember.” Baelish was not about to fall into Stark’s trap. It had been crude of Robert to ask but even cruder if Peter had been seen to boast about money.

Caitlin interrupted, “You have some marvellous paintings. What’s that one on the wall over there?” pointing at a picture of a little girl playing in a rustic scene.

“Oh, that. It’s a Millais. I brought at an auction in London.”

“John Everett Millais?” chipped in the previously quiet Sansa.

“Yes, do you know of him?” enquired the neat man.

“I prefer Rossetti, but yes he’s a Pre-Raphaelite. He painted the death of Ophelia. I love their work, especially ‘The Lady of Shallott’ by Waterhouse.” Given that group’s obsession with red hair, I was not surprised she knew who he was. I could have pointed out that Waterhouse was not actually a member but inspired by them although Sansa was probably aware of that.

“What a clever girl you are!” praised Caitlin.

“Takes after her mother in more than one respect,” flattered Baelish.

Circe squeezed my leg, “Now you see,” she whispered.

After the initial male posturing, the evening settled down. Our host was charming and Robert behaved himself. The Starks stayed until the fireworks. Circe walked back with me to my house. As we reached the gates of Castle Baelish, she looked back.

Curiosity finally got the better of me, “OK, I’ll bite, what is it? I can tell you’re dying to enlighten me.”

“Baelish is in love with Cat.”

I was almost too stunned to speak but managed, “Tell me more.”


	11. Louisville

When the pair of us reached my house I was more desperate to hear the story behind my cousin and my neighbour than I was to fuck my companion, but Circe insisted that I went down on her before she would say more. After I had satisfied her, we shared a bath where she told me what she knew. She explained the story came mainly from Daisy’s side but she had wheedled information out of Baelish as well.

Peter Baelish had indeed worked on the showboats of the Ohio and Mississippi initially as crew but the theatrical managers soon saw his talent for persuasion and gave him a job of attracting customers and even some performing roles. The wealthier the patrons the more they would spend on the various entertainments and the more the showboat would become respectable. This was particularly hard in the big towns where there were large theatres on land to compete against. Baelish used to get employment as a waiter at wealthy parties and work on the female guests of all ages in order to badger their men folk to take them to the river palace.

It was at one of these parties that the young Caitlin Tully met Peter Baelish. Initially though, it was her younger sister Lisa who had been talking to him despite the fact she was only fifteen. Hers is a sad tale but to summarise, after the death of her husband John from Spanish flu during the war, she went mad with grief claiming that the authorities had poisoned him and ended up in a sanatorium. Her only son Robin was now a ward of Caitlin’s parents.

For the young smooth talker it was love at first sight and he became somewhat distracted from his primary task. Baelish, although he was using his real name of Ball at the time, made many claims that day including that he was a writer who was only taking a summer job on the boat as research, that he was 21 with a degree from University College Dublin who worshipped Mark Twain and his parents lived in a castle. From then on he tried to spend as much time in the city as he could visiting Caitlin as often as he could always with a new tale. Eventually, according to Peter, he persuaded her to elope with him although she claimed she probably had not committed to the idea.

However Lisa was jealous and exposed his plans causing a row and his capture outside the grounds of the house. Caitlin’s parents were outraged especially when his true identity was exposed in the magistrate’s court. After Baelish was bound over to keep the peace, Caitlin claimed she was in love with him and did not care about his background.

He made one last attempt to contact her by climbing in through her bedroom window at night but when he tried to wake her he discovered it was Lisa. She informed Peter her sister had been sent to Greece, which Circe suspected to be a deliberate lie rather than a mistake because Caitlin had in fact gone to India. The younger daughter also told Peter she would not hesitate to run away with him all the way to Ireland. He told her to wait. 

Naturally Peter set off in pursuit of his love but with the wrong information he failed in his mission. Upon his return a year later he discovered the Tullys had upped sticks to upstate New York, where he found out the object of his desire had married Robert Stark discovering how the soldier had wooed his paramour with fabulous gifts, so he resolved to become rich enough to win her back. Until last night Caitlin had no idea who her neighbour across the bay was. Baelish had told Circe to make sure that their reunion was out of sight of Robert, so the Colonel would not be able to see her reaction and they could keep his identity secret.

“Don’t you see now, why Baelish wants you to be his friend?”

“I had suspected that he wanted his life documented or he just wanted a friend. I think he’s actually quite lonely. Trust is difficult for him.”

“Yes, but the reason for that is that he has so many secrets. I only know the Louisville part but I am guessing you know more.”

I kept silent.

“Well if we’re not going to talk. Let’s fuck.”

She climbed on top of and with a combination of cunt and mouth emptied my balls. You do not need to be super fit to be a golfer but all of the muscles I experienced during the love making were fairly in top condition.

“Aren’t you staying the night?” I asked afterwards.

 “The night is still young,” Circe replied, “I know you need your beauty sleep but as you can see,” as the goddess stood up in all her naked glory, “it would be rather redundant for me,” and she hopped out of the bath to dry and dress.

Circe insisted I drove her back to Castle Baelish so she could pick up her car. Even at this hour the gate was staffed but by I had carte blanche to come and go as I pleased so they buzzed me in. There were still a handful of cars presumably belonging to guests unable to drive them away. I asked which one was hers and she looked about for a minute and the pointed “That one!”

“You don’t seem too sure,” I challenged.

“It’s been a long day.” She kissed me, bid me good night and I drove off leaving her to travel to her next party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did keep wondering whether Caitlin would meet Peter again after she was married and rejected him because she liked being rich too much but I decided it was better to just say Peter had got the impression, perhaps Caitlin's parents found his was sneaking around and leaned on him or maybe someone else gave him information. Perhaps an outright rejection might be more persuasive - so a possible rewrite.


	12. Friend

The next afternoon Baelish sent a car to pick me up while the cleaning was in process.

“Sorry about the mess, old sport, alcohol has that effect on people. I never touch the stuff myself.”

“I’ve seen you drink,” I stated.

“You’ve seen my servants pour me a drink but if you see me imbibe I can assure you it’s not alcohol. I have always valued a clear head.”

“Caitlin drinks.”

“Indeed but she doesn’t need to think. Why bring her up?”

“Because that’s why I’m here,” I replied.

 “How very astute. I suppose that Lancaster girl told you.”

“Circe.”

“I thought she was CeeCee, old sport.”

“Not to me.”

“Well she’s a splendid girl, old sport, so good luck to you both.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Oh my mistake. Forgive me, old sport, but yes this is about Caitlin. I want you to persuade her to visit your home.”

“What?”

“Well I can hardly invite her to mine, old sport. That would be inappropriate”

“Does she love you?” I had to get to the truth.

“Of course, couldn’t you tell last night?”

“I could tell she was excited as she might be after seeing her first boyfriend after 20 years.”

“Did she tell you I was her first?” Baelish enquired hepped up on the information.

“Listen I did not know any of this until last night.”

“Surely she’s spoken about me?”

“Only that a boy caused her to move from Louisville.”

He appeared crestfallen for a second but then perked up, “Because I was her secret love,” he explained to himself, ever the optimist.

“That must be it”, I helped, “Sometimes people live to keep things close to their heart.”

“So will you try, old sport?” he pressed. I thought about Robert and Ash. What did Caitlin have to lose? Robert would not suspect me.

“Alright,” I agreed bringing a smile to my neighbour’s quixotic face. If he chose to tilt at windmills, that was his business. Caitlin was not happy and maybe he could change that.

“Thank you so much, old sport. You are a gentleman. I’ll buy you a new car.”

I shook my head. Old money or nouveau riche, the wealthy always thought they could buy you. “Listen, I’m just doing this out of friendship.” I wanted to say because of Caitlin but her relationship with her husband was none of his business. It did occur to me later that could have asked to let me take Circe up to one of his bedrooms during a party but then if she found out it was planned it she would probably lose all enthusiasm for it.

“I meant no offence, old sport. My happiness just sent me delirious with generosity.”

“I understand, Baelish.”

“I have been meaning to ask, old sport, but who was that girl you rescued the other night? My men told me you knocked somebody over for her.” Someone Baelish did not know - I could hardly believe my ears. They would have told him she called me uncle so maybe this was just some false ignorance.

“Caitlin’s younger daughter, but promise you won’t tell her mother about that. She’s only 16.”

“So, do you want me to ban her from my parties?”

“No, just keep an eye on her or contact me if you see her again although, now her parents and sister have been here, this place might lose its appeal.”

“Will do, old sport. I get it, she’s a rebel but what about Sansa?” If his eyes left Caitlin the previous evening, they usually rested on her daughter.

“Sansa’s a sweet girl who doesn’t go against her parents,” and then I let something slip, “She loves your chateau. She watches it through her telescope.”

“Does she now?” I could tell he was intrigued. “All the more reason that I should be cautious with Caitlin. The daughter looks very much like her mother did at that age.”

“Almost a copy,” I agreed.

“Oh, I forgot, you knew her back then. She was love’s young dream.”

“She was indeed,” I concurred, “But I was far too young for her.”

After that we reminisced about Louisville. He told me more about the showboats and his teenage romance. Incautiously I told him about Lisa and her insanity.

“I hope that was nothing to do with me, old sport. I never led her on, you know.” Actually when I visited her she had mentioned a river boy who never came back for her but I never gave that much credence or had made any connection with the other lad who caused the family to move, until that moment.

“We played as children but by the time you knew her she didn’t have much time for me. She was always a bit highly strung and when her husband died she snapped, so I am confident it had nothing to do with you.” I assured him.

“That’s a relief. What should I talk about with Caitlin, do you think?”

“Just be yourself,” I advised.

“Trouble is I’ve spent all my adult life not being myself. That boy wasn’t good enough to win her. I want this adult to be.” It was the first real doubt I heard from the man. It was clear to me this meant everything to him.

“Don’t worry, with your charm and your brain, I am sure you will manage. You’ve won her heart before. You can again.”

He laughed, “I’ve never known what it is like to have a real friend, old sport. Thank you.”

He was almost humble before me. It was a close as I would ever see him to being an ordinary human.


	13. Rescue

It was 9 o’clock when I received the call.

“Uncle Tyrone?”

“Speaking. Is that Arya?”

“Thank God. Now listen I’m in Chinatown not exactly sure where. It’s down some steps. It sounds like a restaurant above. I can hear music. We shouted but no-one is coming and this woman’s watching us but she’s in the water closet but we’re locked in and she’s got a cleaver …”

“Calm down. Are you in trouble?”

“Obviously!”

“Do you want me to ring the police?”

“Please, no! If father found out, I’d be grounded forever. It would be in the newspapers.”

“Excuse me, but fuck the papers. Robert can keep you out of them.”

“Just don’t, my life would be hell. I’ve only just got them to agree not to send me back to Europe. I haven’t got much time.”

“I can’t do much on my own. I’m ringing your parents.”

“They both said they were going out.”

“What about Sansa?” I said, rather pointlessly.

“No! You know our chauffeur, Sandy Cleghorn.”

“The one with the scarred face.

“Yes.

“Get him. Hurry. The men said they’d be back in an hour. Jake’s unconscious.”

“Then I had better ring the police.”

“He’ll be in trouble as well. It’s got to be you, uncle.”

“Can you give any more details?”

“We’re just by Tribeca, there were some red lanterns with lion patterns outside. Don’t call father or the police, just bring Sandy.”

“Where will I find him?

“He’s supposed to be waiting for me on Radio Row. He should be sitting in the car. He’ll probably be worried by the time you get there. You’ll be my hero forever.”

Yes, I should have rung the police but she was right, the press would love to have a Stark scandal to put all over their front covers. She said they had an hour. If I drove really fast and found the chauffeur we could settle it before the men returned and if the police stopped me then so much the better. At least I would not have let my cousin down deliberately.

I stopped at Selm’s to fill up with gas and suddenly had the idea he would be a good man to have with me. All I would need to so was slip him a few dollars to keep his mouth shut, not to the press but to Robert. To my surprise he agreed. He said he had something in the garage that was quicker and we raced off. Apparently Ash was already drunk but I still hoped she had not seen me.

You would have thought all of that pickling in alcohol would have dulled Barry Selm’s senses but we located Sandy in just half-an-hour waiting patiently in the car. Cleghorn had been hideously scarred by an explosion on the front but Robert had given him a job. The Starks normally had him ferry their daughters about and as he drove me to Chinatown, with Barry behind, he said “I always look after Miss Arya. She treats me as an equal, not like the rest of them. Fuckers, the lot of them.”

“Including Sansa?” I said in disbelief.

“Sorry, I forgot you were family. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t know what I’d be doing if I didn’t have this job, but apart from the young miss, they treat me like dirt. She said you’re not like them. Ah that must be the place. Let’s fucking have them. Stay in the car, sir. This might not be pretty. If those Chinese cunts have touched her, I’ll wear they balls around my neck.”

He got out. I followed as did Barry. I had not told the former sergeant who we were rescuing but he had probably worked out it must be a Stark once he saw the big car. I peered in, through the little windows of the basement. Sometimes it’s useful to be small.

“I see her. She’s tied up with a boy and another girl. They’re opposite the window. There’s a woman facing them with her back to door with a meat cleaver next to her on the table.”

“You, what’s your name?” barked Barry at the disfigured man, who must have been as tall as Briony.

“Sandy Cleghorn.”

“Rank?”

“Corporal.”

“Well I’m Sergeant Barry Selm.”

“I know. What the fuck do ranks matter, now?”

Barry ignored that. In another context he may have yelled at his subordinate but now was not the time. “Corporal, take the woman and I’ll look after everything else.”

I stayed watching outside as Sandy shattered the lock with his foot.

“She’s got the cleaver,” I shouted as the Chinese woman faced up to Cleghorn, threateningly.

“Put it down!” ordered the sergeant, who was out sight.

“No shoot, no shoot,” and she dropped her weapon just missing one of the chauffeur’s feet.

“You might have fucking told me you had a gun!” I heard Cleghorn exclaim.

“Sandy!” cried Arya.

I missed what happened next as some of the restaurant staff above came to find out what was going on. They knocked me over before being confronted by the Colt M1917. They backed off. Slightly dazed, I undid the 3 captives although Arya already had one hand untied which explained the phone call. The rope proved useful for securing their kidnapper to a chair.

Looking around I could see enough evidence to convince me it was an opium den. I wondered if the men had left to consult their bosses if by some chance they had discovered exactly who their visitors were. Maybe they would ask for a ransom or simply rape the girls.

“Listen,” I said to the woman slowly in the manner which comes naturally when speaking to someone who you think has a rudimentary grasp of the language. “I do not know what kind of game you are running. But I am giving your address to the B.O.I. Bureau of Investigation. You understand, Bureau. Bureau. Slaves. Jail, Electric Chair. Zzzzzzzzz. Tell men!”

“Get a move on there. I can see men running down the road,” shouted Barry.

I hurried the girls out into the back of Sandy’s car, while Sandy carried the boy. As I was starting Barry’s client's car, Arya climbed into the back.

“No room in there” she explained. The men were almost upon us as Sandy drove away and at last second he could Barry jumped in as I drove off just out of the clutches of our enemies.

The grizzled sergeant spoke with adrenaline and pride, “I thought I was going to have to use this heater for a second. Luckily I didn’t. The police will probably turn up in a minute but nobody there will tell them anything. That took me back. Good man, Cleghorn. If you don’t mind, Mr Carraway, I’ll drive once we reach Brooklyn.”

That suited me fine as I was able to sit in the back with Arya, but she only wanted to talk about the rescue and not how she had got in that situation in the first place. All she would say on that subject was “Don’t ask,” and “All that matters is we’re safe now thanks to you, Sandy and Barry.”

In order to avoid any more difficult questions from me she interrogated Barry about his war heroics. We caught up with Sandy at the garage, where I picked up my car. Barry told us he was going for a well earned drink. Sandy said he wished he could join him, but he had duties. He claimed he would be back to the children’s homes just after 11 so would maybe avoid questions provided they could patch up Jake. They could always say he had a fall.

Before they left, I told Arya, “I don’t want to ever hear a phone call like that again,” and kissed her. I was not going to tell her but if there was a next time, I would call the police.


	14. Tryst

If I had not had such feelings for Caitlin, I would be getting thoroughly sick of being the go between for Baelish and his obsession. I even had to drive to King’s Landing and back in order to collect Caitlin. After all I was supposed to be the host. We talked in the car.

“How much do you know about Baelish?” I asked her.

“More than you, I would think. We spent an exciting summer together when I was 17. We tried to see each other every day. Of course he was just Peter Ball then.”

“You know he was lying to you even then?”

“Well I did wonder about his age and many of his stories seemed fantastic. I’m pretty sure he isn’t descended from a Bohemian prince because I looked up the name he said in the Encyclopedia and he wasn’t there, but his defence was that his enemies had written him out. I was in love so I believed him.”

“Encyclopedia? That’s not like you. You must have been serious.”

“Intrigued, I would say. If he was a prince I could rub Lisa’s nose in it as well.”

“It’s not like you to be vindictive either. I’m learning a lot about my young cousin.”

“To you, I was your happy babysitter. But in my defence you must remember me complaining about my sister. And we were typical sisters!”

“Do you see her often?”

“No, because it’s difficult. She accuses everybody of everything. Nothing was ever her fault. It was me, or our parents, or the army. She was tiring before she went mad, but please I don’t want to talk about her. I want to enjoy your company. I am not even sure I want to talk about Peter.”

“Why?”

“Oh I don’t know. Seeing him again brought back my memories, but it was all long ago.”

That was a surprise. I had thought she would be keen. Now I wondered how she would react when she saw the real reason for this journey. “He still carries a torch,” I suggested.

“Well. I don’t want to boast but I guessed as much. What a coincidence he lives opposite me.” She thought for a second, “Unless it isn’t?”

“I am sure it must be,” although I knew differently and by all reports building had not started until after the Starks had moved in, “He told me he wanted to impress the residents of Ring Finger especially those in the big Georgian house. He was a showman, still is,” but I wanted to return to Louisville, “I told him you were his first.”

“I was a virgin when I married.”

“I meant first boyfriend.”

“Why did you tell him that? That might further inflame his passion.”

“And you wouldn’t like that?” I queried to no response. “I know. It was stupid,” I apologised.

“Besides which you know he wasn’t. I’d had boyfriends since I was 15 probably even earlier. He was just the last one before …”

“Robert?”

“Yes, him.”

She went on to talk about Robert’s roving eye, which she had never understood especially now he’d got fat. Now that they had King’s Landing, great friends and their daughters were home, why would he need anything else?

“Lots of women covet men, you know, but I’ve never strayed. Ceecee encourages me but she’s single. She calls me boring but she’s always coming around.”

“Maybe she’s after more sponsorship,” I teased.

“Don’t be silly. It’s me she comes to see.”

When we reached my current abode and I opened the door, I told my cousin I had to examine the car and she should make herself a drink while she waited. It was a ruse of course because inside Baelish was waiting for her. I gave them a few minutes before wandering in to see how they were getting on. Contrary to what she said in the car, Caitlin appeared giddily happy. There were already drinks on the lounge’s coffee table, although I wondered if one was just for show.

“Apologies, old sport, we’ve started without you.” He poured me a shot of bourbon topped with ginger ale. I would have preferred simple dilution maybe some ice, as did Robert, but perhaps Baelish was remembering his time in Kentucky. It seemed to suit Caitlin just fine.

“What a pleasant surprise. You’re so thoughtful, Tyrone. How delightful that both my favourite men from Louisville are here. I’ve been away from home too long. Don’t get me wrong I love New York but I remember being happier when life was slower.”

“There’s a lot to be said for it,” I agreed but maybe not for Baleish after Caitlin had left.

The 3 of us, the genuine Kentuckians and the Irish actor, reminisced about the city on the Falls. It was not truly in the South but often felt like it. Entertainment played a major part, with the races, the balls, the theatre and the showboats. Life was gay back then but there was always the dark side of racism bubbling under and while I know Caitlin enjoyed the jazz clubs of Manhattan, it might explain why she found it so easy to tolerate Robert’s views.

As it was nearing Caitlin’s time for departure, I made my excuses and left them alone. Through the window I saw them kissing on the sofa. It was though they had been transported back in time 20 years and were eagerly recreating their adolescence in my living room. The journey back allowed my cousin to sober up as she slept for the first 15 minutes. When she awoke, she did not want to talk about Baelish.

“If anything should happen to me, look out for my daughters will you Tyrone. You’re a good man and they like you.”

“I hardly know them.”

“Well you have made a huge impression on them in the last couple of weeks. Sansa needs protection and Arya … Arya is wild. You know she got kicked out of Rodean.”

“No, I did not.”

“She was discovered at some party with drinks and boys.”

“That sounds like Arya,” I said before checking myself with, “I imagine.”

“Expelled immediately for being a bad influence, so we sent her to a new school in Germany run by a Scotsman with experimental teaching methods. She said she loved it there but since coming back she keeps demanding to go to school in New York instead. She’s a talented dancer and talked about becoming an actress. Robert would never allow that but I hated both of them being away so I shall see what I can do.”

“Sansa seems to have become a proper lady.”

Caitlin nodded. “Yes, the school suited her but now she needs to find a wealthy husband.”

“Or just a normal one,” I suggested.

“Tyrone, you wag. A Stark marrying outside her class? Robert’s father would sooner Stanley became president!” I shuddered to think what the Stark patriarch might think of Renton’s lifestyle choice but if he had Marge to cover for him that might be acceptable.

“Arya came back late the other night with a bruise on her face,” Caitlin continued. I had not been aware of any injury from Chinatown, but perhaps she kept that side of her face away from me in the car. “I can’t help but worry. Maybe Germany was the wrong choice. I just don’t know what to do with her, but she respects you.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you. You know how to handle Robert,” I said thinking what he had done to Ash.

“Robert? No, I am worried I might do something stupid.”


	15. Crime

The next morning Baelish turned up at my door in his pride a joy, a cream Duesenberg which he claimed had been personally tuned by the brothers.

“I am in your debt, old sport.”

“I told you I was happy to do it.”

“I know you won’t take gifts but allow me to take you for lunch.”

It seemed a bit early for me to write so I spruced myself up and we left 20 minutes later. Baelish explained that normally he would have a chauffer who he trusted with any business information but today he wanted the freedom to talk about Caitlin. I think he must have described every minute of his meeting yesterday, forgetting I was in the same room for most of it, and continually asked my opinion on all that my cousin said and did.

“Do you think she still loves me?”

“I saw you on the sofa with her,” I confessed. “She didn’t seem to be resisting.”

“That’s what I thought but you know, old sport, sometimes what I wish for overcomes my senses. I almost wasn’t sure it had happened.”

He drove fast through Queens, so fast that a policeman pulled us over. Baelish got out of the car and a couple of minutes later, the officer was smiling and shaking his hand.

“What happened? Did you get a fine?” I asked.

“Of course not, old sport. The man apologised and wished me well so I offered him some security work. He seemed happy and offered me an escort. I have a good relationship with the NYPD.”

I wondered if ‘good’ really meant ‘look the other way. We stopped in the Theatre District and went downstairs into a smoky restaurant. The maitre’d led us to a private booth in the corner where a fat bald man already had a fine spread of dishes. Baelish introduced him, “Tyrone, meet my friend Vasos King. I am sure you know of his work.”

I recognised the large diner, aka The Spider as his real name was Vasos Arak as in arachnid, a Jew of Greek origin who happened to be one of New York’s top defence lawyers. The people he defended were almost always of rather dubious connections and he had a reputation for pulling off seemingly impossible escapes from justice. I had come across his name several times before leaving for the War but I had never managed to secure an interview, but then neither had any other journalist. Since then I had seen him at a charity gala hosted by Caitlin but never got to speak to him.

“And this is Tyrone Carraway. You probably know of his work as well.”

Vasos smiled, “Of course, the war correspondent. Pleased to make your acquaintance but I’m sorry to disappoint as there are no guns here.”

“Vasos is the man who fixed the World Series,” Baelish announced and for a second the bald man gave him a stare which would have frozen most men. “Come now, Spider, you know I would not say that in front of someone I didn’t trust and besides he keeps telling me he’s no long a journalist.”

“As always, I am unconcerned,” dismissed the lawyer, “Baelish here still runs the finest brothels in the world. He should take you to one. Whatever your tastes, he has something for you.”

“Touché”, responded the bearded man.

“He exaggerates, Mr Carraway. I merely facilitated some deals that certain parties requested. I have no interest in baseball. Violence is against my nature,” obfuscated King.

“There’s no violence in baseball.”

“My mistake. I so often come across mention of the use of the bats.”

“How did you 2 meet?” I asked them.

The Spider responded,“A simple arrangement: the brilliant Bealish looks after my money and I protect his interests. He brings me knowledge, I reciprocate. It’s all above board.”

I somehow doubted that. My instincts about my ‘friend’ had been correct. For a second I thought about whether I had done the right thing yesterday. I could insist that next time, if there was a next time, Cat visited the venue should be the chateau … but that would only assuage part of my complicity. I was guilty but then I remembered how happy both had been yesterday and suddenly it felt wrong to deny them. I should warn my cousin to be careful without saying exactly why.

Vasos did tell some shocking tales but always about other people. He seemed to disapprove of those he represented while Baelish kept on commending him for his cleverness. It was a mutual admiration society. After we left, Baelish said “The reason this man is called the Spider is because no-one moves in New York without his web alerting him.”

“I was sure it was do with his name,” I countered.

“Lost you, old spot. Vasos King? No, I don’t see a spider there.”

“Arak?” He shook his head.

“Maybe I’m wrong,” I climbed down to prevent further embarrassment. Another man who changed his name I thought but this time to make himself more accessible rather than more mysterious.

As we started to drive back, I saw Circe in the street. I indicated to Baelish to pull over which he did. The golfer ran to catch up with us. “Oh Tyrone, great to see you.” Maybe it was a little too public so she did not kiss me. “I’m leaving for Pinehurst in a couple of hours.”

“Where’s that?”

“North Carolina. It’s a golf course.”

“A tournament?” I had begun to wonder why she never seemed to be playing.

 Why don’t you come and watch me?”

“I’ve got no stuff.”

“Buy some.”

Time for a reality check, “I can’t just buy clothes. I have to have them made. Besides which I can get on with my writing in peace.”

“Go on, old sport,” encouraged Baelish, “I’ll have your clothes flown down; your novel too, if you’d like. Just give me your keys.”

There was the ulterior motive, but I was surprised he had not thought this through. What excuse did Caitlin have to see him? So it occurred to me there was no benefit to him. It would be great to spend time with Circe though. However I would not be there for Arya the next time she did something stupid as she inevitably would, but I had told her not to so what more could I do?

“OK, I’m game, but no reading. Just send some smart clothes … ones suitable for watching golf,” I instructed, although I was certain I did not own any.

Baelish drove us back to Circe’s apartment and I handed over my key. Finally I had her to myself instead of her zooming off to some party.

Before he left Baelish said “Have a great time, old sport. I know I will.”

“We’ll see,” I replied suddenly getting suspicious.


	16. Golf

My break in North Carolina had not gone as well as I hoped. It started off fine with me visiting Circe’s couchette on the night train from Washington to Savannah although I had to sneak out before daylight. Once at the course, near Fayetteville, I booked in at the same hotel but my room could not have been further from my lover’s. Circe practised that day and then declared herself too tired after the evening meal leaving me to entertain myself where there was nothing to do.

The next day was the first of the 2 day tournament. I was not really interested in the sport so just followed the golden haired sportswoman from hole to hole even though she did not have time to talk to me. That evening just before dinner, Jamie and Briony arrived and we shared a table at the hotel restaurant. After we had ordered, Circe said she was going to the powder room and shortly after that Jamie announced he had left his wallet in his room. The food arrived with no sign of sister or brother. Briony went to search for Circe but she had vanished without trace. The hotel staff were none too impressed nor it seemed did they lose the opportunity of pointing out to each other the 2 foot height difference between the remaining diners at our table.

When Circe returned, she chided me for starting without her. She seemed flushed and excitable. She said she had bumped into her brother on his way out of the dining area and went to help him look for his money. Then she claimed one of his fans had accosted them so they were trapped in his room until hotel staff took the man away. A little later Jamie arrived with the same story. I had my doubts. It appeared likely they had staged this but I could not fathom out why. Briony, despite being an intelligent young woman, immediately accepted every word he said.

That night I was thwarted again as the female Lancaster said she never had sex in the middle of a tournament especially when she was in contention. It was true that she had done well and was just 2 shots behind the leader who she would be paired with on the second and final day. I wish I had asked Baelish to deliver my novel. Thanks to his efficient connections, my clothes had arrived on the first night so I managed to look respectable on the course.

The following day, I watched with her brother and his girlfriend. At the last hole Circe was still 2 shots behind. As her opponent was at the top of her swing, I felt someone step on my foot. Not really familiar with golf etiquette, I yelped in pain to see a smiling Jaime, who then apologised but not before the ball had flown into the deep grass. Circe’s second went close to the hole while her opponent had a long putt to make with her fifth. The other player came up short but my girlfriend’s aim was true and she won the tournament by one hole.

I was initially disappointed when Circe told me we were driving back to New York starting as soon as we returned to the hotel. However Jamie had a chauffeured limousine with champagne in the back for us to celebrate. It is not hard to guess who did most of the drinking although I think actually came second. As she became more inebriated, the victor started talking about lesbianism. She said she was convinced most females played sport so they could meet other lesbians. That is why she won because her opponents were busy having all female orgies.

Naturally Briony was upset by this, saying she had never had the slightest attraction to women and nor did any of her teammates. She was even less amused when Jamie’s response was “Really? Pity! I was so looking forward to a visit from your friends.”

To rescue Miss Tarf and emboldened by alcohol, I changed the subject, “I don’t suppose what happened at the last hole was an accident.”

“Think what you want, I have big feet,” he excused.

His drunk sister burst out laughing almost uncontrollably. When she had calmed down she spoke, “I can’t believe you said that with a straight face. Tyrone, darling, of course it wasn’t an accident. Robert will be so pleased with you, helping to put his name in the paper. They always reference the sponsor of the winner, so I needed to win. Jamie always does what I tell him, don’t you twin?”

“But the last tournament you played in, you were accused of cheating. I can’t believe you would do it again,” I spoke without any conviction.

“I didn’t make a squeak. You did. You’re my accomplice, Tyrone. Isn’t that sexy?”

“Ermmm”

“Well, I think so … oh no!” and she threw up in the back of the car.

We stopped for the night at a town on the Virginia border. Naturally Circe was in no state to make love and we all went to our separate rooms. The next day, she had a shocking headache and demanded silence for almost the entire journey back.

When I arrived home late that night, I found some evidence that my house had been used during my absence. I could only assume the garter I found belonged to my cousin so it seemed as though Baelish had formed some plan with Cat despite the lack of an excuse. The token indicated they had progressed from their previous meeting.

The next day I visited Baelish Castle bringing the evidence. It was a day when usually I would have expected party preparations to be taking place. I found him in his study and showed him the garter. Some might have been sheepish or even tried to deny it but he seemed pleased almost as though he had deliberately left it there to boast of his success.

“I have finally achieved part of my ambition,” he announced, “Thanks to you and Circe.”

I did not ask which part, “Circe?”

“Well, yes, did you think we met her by accident?”

I was disappointed as I would gladly have played host for another tryst. “You say you don’t have friends. Well deceiving me might explain why.”

“You’re angry, old sport. Surely you had a good time while you were away.”

Not as good as I hoped I said to myself but out loud, “It was enlightening.”

“A word of advice, old sport. You shouldn’t trust people like me or Circe or anyone really, but you can trust people to be who they are. I practice deception because I have had to. However she does it partly for fun but mainly because she has no respect for others, including you and your cousin. But, if you realise that, she’s fun to be around.”

“Do you have fun?”

“Yes, I like to outwit my opponents?”

“Including me … and Caitlin.”

This made him angry. “No, never. Not with her. Not with you. I just told you I do what I have to do. I want to be as honest with you as I can. I have not tried to hide who I am from you, have I?”

“No,” I conceded. Maybe I was judging him too harshly but if he thought I needed advice on how to deal with people he was deluded. I was the journalist, not him.

“So long as that’s clear. And to prove myself I shall tell you what happened yesterday. Following on from our rendezvous a couple of days earlier, Cait had her chauffeur row her across the bay to my landing stage. When I spied her from the tower, I gave most of my staff the day off and they were ushered off the premises before she arrived. I had no idea she was coming and suggested she was taking a big risk. Cait told me she didn’t care and my heart leapt. I took her up in the hydroplane and she loved it. After we landed, I took her upstairs and we made love on my bed. I was in heaven. She told me Robert was her husband in name only and that was all I wanted to hear.”

That final part I already knew. However I was still surprised she had admitted it openly to him, but she might have been dizzy with the experiences of the day.

“This morning I received an invitation to spend tomorrow at King’s Landing. What do you think that means?”

“That Robert has discovered the truth?” I said with brutal honesty.

“My suspicions too, old chap, but he doesn’t understand the connection between myself and Cait.”

“Aren’t you afraid? Robert Stark is not a man to be trifled with.”

“Do you want to come? See the show.”

I knew Circe would be there tomorrow so I agreed.

“Splendid, old sport, I’ll just phone to confirm.”


	17. Confrontation

The heat was stifling on the hottest day of the year. The Starks had sent their daughters away to the beach with instructions that Sandy should watch Arya “like a hawk.” It seemed to be their favourite phrase which was ironic because in general neither was particularly good at observing. When Baelish and I arrived Robert was on the phone to Ash although I would later back him up by telling Caitlin and Baelish it was his secretary. I should favour Caitlin but now they were both playing a game.

Circe and my cousin looked absolutely gorgeous in their sheer white dresses. Neither was wearing any discernible underwear and the sweat made the garments cling. I could tell they were pleased with their naughtiness. The hypocrite Robert hinted several times he disapproved even though if it had been any other women he would probably be trying to get them on his knee. There was already tension but I did not know who knew what or perhaps it was just overspill form the posturing at the chateau. Cat suggested we go into town and Gatsby backed her up. Robert was not so keen but after some obvious flirting between his wife and the entrepreneur he was provoked into agreeing.

When we went outside Robert did his best to look askance at Baelish’s vehicle but I could tell he was intrigued. The Rolls was bigger but more subtly coloured than the Duesenberg so it seemed less brash.

“Want to try it, old sport?” said the younger man, “It may be smaller than yours but it’s more powerful and quicker.” It almost seemed like he was referring to the men rather than the cars. Robert’s curiosity got the better of him and the men agreed to swap keys. His mood was not enhanced when Caitlin got in the car with Baelish and as they drove off the driver shouted, “Meet you at the Plaza, old sport, my treat!”

Robert beckoned to me and Circe, “What are you waiting for? We’ll need to catch them.”

He started off rapidly in pursuit although the roads of The Fingers were not really built for a race. By the time we had reached Selm’s garage for his obligatory top up he had long overtaken his wife. Selm greeted us with a smile especially for me.

“What do you know?” said Robert, “He does remember you.”

“Well I have stopped for gas myself since last time we were here,” I explained, “We talked about the war.”

Something seemed different about Barry. Not only was the smell of alcohol absent but he seemed to have smartened himself up and appeared to have morphed back to his proper age.

“Me and the wife are moving away”, he announced, “This is an unhealthy place. I need to be in fresh air.”

“I think you should consider staying”, said Robert panicking a little, “You won’t have a better customer than me.”

The irony was not lost on us and Circe leaned over to whisper, “Nor has his wife”, which was a little cruel.

The other couple came zooming past oblivious of our presence as were Robert and Barry of theirs. As we set off Robert started complaining, “I knew it,” he said, “Ash was hysterical on the phone. I had to quiet her by saying I’d pick her up but he had threatened to lock her in her room and I guess he did it. Lucky for me really. It would not have done for him to see that.” Because of the venom in his voice, I knew that by ‘him’ he meant his rival for Caitlin rather than his rival for Ash. He did not even mention the effect it might have had on his own wife.

“Ash told me Barry was convinced she was having an affair. Don’t think I don’t feel bad about the whole business. When a man’s wife strays, he’s bound to feel bad.” Had Robert had a revelation? He appeared subdued until we reached the hotel although he had to overtake Baelish again before we got there. This was a false victory because after all Baelish wanted to prove his car was better.

The Plaza was the place to be if you were rich or famous or both but possibly to the general relief of the party Baelish booked a suite high in the sky rather than have us eat in the restaurant. While he was doing this Robert leaned down from his great height and whispered, “Be prepared, the show is about to begin.” I had no idea what he meant but I did not like the look in his eye. In the elevator the other 2 men swapped car keys.

Once upstairs, after our drinks order again circumventing prohibition and an accompanying buffet had arrived, Tom began mocking Baelish saying he was certain the immigrant had no more idea of how to behave in the top echelons of society than “a chimpanzee.” He asked about his businesses as he had at that first meeting only Robert seemed to have the answers to his own questions. Baelish was wrong footed at first but then began to return like a great a tennis player. Robert got more and more frustrated while Caitlin became more and more uncomfortable, pleading with the pair to stop and enjoy the day. It was not hard to see who was the smarter man. Circe was enjoying every minute of it. I did not. This could get nasty. I had seen Robert angry many times and he was capable of literally crushing his rival if he got hold of him.

Baelish however was inspired by his muse. He had not got to this position to throw it away now. I admired him once again as I had started to the first day I met him.

“I realise what this is. You can’t stand seeing Cait this happy … with me.”

“And so the revelation,” stated the big man.

“Yes Cait has been seeing me.”

“It’s Caitlin or Cat,” Stark snarled.

“Ah but I knew her before you. She loved me first, whereas she never loved you,” put Peter triumphantly.

“Stop this nonsense. It doesn’t matter who has the most money or who has the fastest car. I just don’t care,” appealed Cat.

Ignoring his wife, Robert remained focused, “Tyrone, is this true?” and all eyes turned to me. It was now my turn to feel like one more casualty of this confrontation.

Almost inaudibly Circe whispered, “Your big moment, don’t blow it kid!”

 “Is what true?” I played for time.

“That Caitlin knew Baelish back in Louisville,” clarified Robert.

“I was just a child. I never saw him.” I said honestly as though I was in court and further it was true Peter Baelish was never in Louisville. That man was Peter Ball.

Baelish rushed to my defence, “I wasn’t romancing Cait’s family, I was romancing her. The rest of them just weren’t important.” Turning to me, he added, “No offence, old sport,” and winked.

“And you thought you would romance my wife again. Now I remember, Mr and Mrs Tully told me about a boy who tried to steal my Caitlin away with his lies. Enjoy you time in jail? I thought they told him never to come near her again.”

“True lovers can’t be kept apart forever. She doesn’t love you. She’s never loved you. Tell him Cait.”

“It’s hot. Can’t someone open a window?”, said my flustered cousin.

“Tell him Cait. Tell him the truth,” appealed Baelish.

“He’s the father of my children, Peter. You’re asking too much.”

“You want him rather than your daughters?” reinforced Robert. It was a low blow and a threat.

Caitlin turned around to look at Peter who she had not made eye contact with during the entire conversation, “I don’t feel well. Could you take me back to my home please?” She got up and headed for the door wishing she had a coat to wrap around herself as she folded her arms and suddenly looked very cold.

Baelish followed with, “Don’t worry about the bill. I have an account.”

“Well that’s over with,” announced Robert, “Circe, fix me a drink please, while I calm down.”


	18. Accident

“So what’s happened?” whispered Circe, in the back of the car.

“Robert won.”

“But Cat left with Baelish?”

“Did you miss the bit where he asked him to take her home … back to King’s Landing,” I explained.

“She could have meant to pick up her stuff?”

Not if I am the judge of character I think I am.

Robert must have guessed what we were talking about. “Caitlin wouldn’t say she didn’t love me. That’s when that prick knew the truth. Maybe we’ve grown apart in the last 2 years. That’s because I craved the excitement of an affair. It’s not easy being an ex-soldier especially if you’ve experienced war. Look at Sergeant Selm … and don’t blame me for that. It would have happened sooner or later with her. Deep down, you both know that.”

He was probably right but it did not excuse his behaviour. I almost considered whether I should tell Baelish and Caitlin now their affair was revealed but I sensed a change in Robert. He had bested his opponent and now seemed to be resolved to be a better husband. Perhaps there would be no more pretend meetings, but could he stop his eyes wandering and his appetite for younger women despite the fact he was no longer the handsome sportsman he once had been?

However, would this satisfy Caitlin? Her eyes were downcast while we in the hotel suite, staring her into her drink and, when she was not staring, she was drinking. She must have had half a bottle of champagne during a fairly short time. Although she was used to drinking, she never handled that well. Usually she became very flirty and fun but not on this day. This day, it seemed like she was in hell. I think she would have happily continued visiting Little Finger for the rest of the year and this fantasy had ended all too suddenly for her. However, she was not there for me to confirm all this.

Circe put her leg over mine and tried to put my hand up her skirt to her unprotected slit but I indicated I was not interested. There was too much confusion. I had a relationship with everyone in this mess. How could I be seen not to take sides? What if our driver discovered my part in bringing the 2 lovers back together or indeed Circe’s collusion as well. It was all very complicated. At least that was what I thought until we saw the police cars outside Selm’s garage.

Robert pulled over and got out. He went to speak to the officers and then gestured for us to join him. He looked really distressed.

“It’s Ash, she’s dead,” he told us and then he wept, “Maybe if I’d take her more seriously this morning, this wouldn’t have happened. So vibrant, so full of life and now …”

I spoke to the police who told me witnesses had seen her run out but the car just did not slow down. They thought she was killed instantly. If so, it was good that she did not suffer but was she trying to escape or … and this thought hit me hard … did she recognise the car? That seemed too much of a coincidence so I dismissed it. I held my instincts back so did not inquire after more details.

I returned to my cousin-in-law and girlfriend, who was comforting him. “I think we ought to see Selm,” stated Robert.

“Do you think that’s wise?” and then instantly I realised how selfish that was.

“It’s the least I can do for him. He may not have been the ideal husband but he’s a brave man and a great hero of this country. We all owe him.”

Barry was in total shock, “She went up in the air. She went up in the air,” he repeated.

“Look Sergeant. If you need any help. I’ll give it to you. If you want to set up somewhere else, I will help you financially,” Robert told him, “Back in Paris I thought I loved her, but she chose the better man.”

This was perhaps a dangerous thing to say considering I did not know how much Barry knew about Ashara and Colonel Stark back in 1918.

“She went up in the air … like a bird.”

“It’s alright. We’ll look after him,” said a detective, “If you can give us any background please speak to the officers outside.”

None of the 3 of us was prepared to wash Ashleigh’s or indeed or our own dirty laundry in public so we kept our views to ourselves. As Robert did not feel like it, Circe drove us back to my house in, what was for her, a restrained fashion. I made the other 2 a coffee before they headed back to the other peninsular. I thought about ringing Caitlin or Baelish but was not certain where either of them were and besides which they probably had no idea who Ash was so any warning would give away something they never needed to know. Maybe tomorrow I would visit Barry and ask him if he wanted me to write a piece about Ash. It was the least I could do. As for Baelsih he and his games just did not seem important right now.

What a terrible day!  


	19. Aftermath

It felt like the middle of night when I was awoken by someone banging on my door and shouting. When my eyes and ears adjusted I saw that it was dawn and heard that my alarm clock was Baelish. I cursed him for not waiting until a more reasonable hour, put on my dressing gown, and let him in.

“What a night? I would ask you for a drink but I shall need a clear head. I’m going home to rest and then hand myself into the police.”

I invited him to sit down.

“So it was you who caused the accident last night.”

“I saw this woman run into the road in front of us. I have no idea what she was doing.”

I did but could not bring myself to tell him so I asked, “Couldn’t you have avoided her?”

“Well Cait was d …” he trailed off.

Did he mean Cat was distracting him or was she driving?

“I carried Cait upstairs and put her in bed with the help of her maid. The woman wanted to call the doctor, but it was just shock,” he explained.

“Shock?”

“I monitored her pulse and breathing to make sure they were normal.”

“Sounds like she did need a doctor.”

“Well I didn’t want some third party listening to what she may say in her sleep.”

“Why?”

Baelish ignored that question. It was too awkward for him even although I sensed he wanted me to guess. If I let him talk rather than pressed than issue he might be less on his guard and I could get to a more reliable truth.

“I left once to hide my car as I didn’t want a confrontation with Robert. I was worried about how he might behave. Fortunately the girls arrived first but they probably had no idea their mother was home. I managed to sneak out undetected before Robert and Circe arrived much later than I expected. Perhaps you stayed at the Plaza after we left?”

“Yes,” I confirmed not wishing to give the full story.

“How was he?”

“Bullish, reflective. You made him think.”

“I was worried he might get violent with me or Cait.”

“Not with Cat, but you took a hell of a risk.”

“I hung around until about an hour ago but there was no row that I could hear. I don’t know what I expected but I just wanted to stay close to her for as long as possible.”

“You know it’s over between you.”

“I’m a optimist but I’m not stupid. I’m stopping the parties.”

“Long Island will be poorer for that. I think you’ve made the right choice. If you take my advice you’ll leave the area and forget about her. I am not going to say there are plenty more fish, because I know Caitlin’s special but I am sure you’ll find love.”

“Look, old sport,” – it was the first time he had addressed me as such all night – “you mustn’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ll just sort everything out with the police. I know a good lawyer.”

But it was more than that. Yesterday his lifelong dream had been shattered, far more devastating than any car accident. He bid me farewell and took the short drive home. Fortunately I was spared the sight of Ash’s blood on the Duesenberg. One thing I was sure of, despite everything he was still controlled and evasive.

I could not get to sleep so I did some writing before ringing King’s Landing. It was Arya who answered the phone. “The doctor’s here. Father says mother’s feeling faint. What happened last night? I asked him but he won’t tell me.”

“There was an accident. I’m sure your mother’s OK, but please keep it to yourself. I’ll get in trouble if you let on I told you. Your mother’s been through a traumatic time. Your father too. Just give them space.”

“Will do. Should I tell Sansa?”

“Maybe but make sure she stays quiet as well. Just be sensitive. Tell her I said so. Anyway did you have a good time yesterday?”

“Brilliant. All the boys were ogling Sansa in her swimsuit. I kept telling them she was up for anything which led to some fun. Some of them got really scared when Sandy approached. One even pissed himself. His own fault. He shouldn’t have tried to kiss her.”

“You’re rotten to your sister.”

“Well, she shouldn’t be so pretty!”

“I’m sure the boys were looking at you as well.”

“I played something called volleyball. I was the only girl. I heard a few remarks about things bouncing which I think were directed at my bubs. I suppose I could have had some fun but none of them had any drink.”

“I’ve told you about that. You don’t want to end up like your father.”

“What a stinking rich war hero and renowned sportsman. I could live with that,” she laughed.

“No, a moustache.”

“Ew,” she giggled, “Thanks uncle. I’ll tell them you called.”

“No. Don’t bother, I’ll be out for the rest of the day although I might visit this evening so no promises and don’t tell your parents and stop being mean to your sister. Love you, goodbye.”

I drove off to see Barry. I did not know how many friends he had but perhaps he would welcome a friendly face.

Selm was barely awake. He’d been obviously drunk himself to sleep. In his kitchen he told me as he made coffee, “She was the most beautiful woman on Earth and I let her down. Have you ever seen eyes like hers?” I had to confess I had not.

“Big yellow car, they tell me. The one I saw you and Robert in yesterday. You must know him.”

“Yes I do.” It was pointless to lie.

“I’ll kill the bastard,” he said pulling out his gun and polishing it.

 “Please let the police handle it.”

“You don’t understand. Ash was having an affair. It must have been with the driver of that car, else why would she’ve run out? I should have kept the door locked.”

“It’s a tragedy but she might just have been trying to flag any old car down. Look I know the man in the car and you have my word that he was not having an affair your wife.”

“Well you can’t know everything and he still killed my wife.”

“For which I hope he will be suitably punished.” I felt dishonest, knowing Vasos King would get Baelish off with at most a suspended sentence or perhaps completely.

Selm did not want any publicity, just asking me to write a few words in the columns of the New York Times. I let him reminisce as much as he wanted. We talked about Ashleigh, we talked about the war and more awkwardly about Robert. He drank of course and his garage remained closed but no police came. Eventually some neighbours arrived and I handed over to them satisfied that he was not in a fit state to go looking for Baelish even if he had the will.


	20. Bruises

Even though I was really tired, I drove all the way to King’s Landing. I was greeted by Robert who had also been drinking.

“It’s all my fault,” he said, “I wanted Ashara but she wasn’t that person any more. When we made love I told myself she was but the alcohol … Maybe there’s something to be said for Prohibition,” as he downed another double whisky.

I told him I had been to see Barry in case he had no-one else and about Baelish and his intention to hand himself in.

“At least the man has some honor. Honestly I didn’t know but it might explain how Caitlin is.”

The previous night I had not told of my suspicions as his mind was preoccupied with the victim. I do not suppose he gave the perpetrator much thought but I would have expected Cat to have told him.

“Where are the girls?”

“Upstairs with Ceecee. Being a parent doesn’t come naturally for her. I wanted to send them away to their grandparents but Caitlin used what little strength she has at the moment to raise herself up and plead with me that they had to stay. They’ve both visited her but she’s in a bad way.”

“Is she injured from the crash?” I asked.

“Just bruises according to the doctor. I cannot understand why Baelish left her in that state.” I did not imagine Peter scared easily but he probably thought it would not be helpful for Caitlin and the girls to witness another argument between him and Robert who continued, “Her real problem is mental. Caitlin can’t remember a thing about last night.  She remembers leaving the hotel room but really nothing after that. She never mentioned any accident. I was also set to sort out Baelish but she told me he abhorred violence and for some strange reason I believed her.”

Maybe Robert was persuaded of this because he was ashamed of himself. Although I had no doubt on a personal level my cousin was correct, from what I guessed about Baelish he had no objection to ordering others to enforce his wishes. The thought that he would harm Caitlin seemed ridiculous but then this was a man dedicated to hiding himself.

I asked if I could see Caitlin, which Robert thought would be a good idea but I was not going to tell her what had happened. She seemed in a daze and wanted to stay in the dark so I could not see her injuries. She thought she must have been in an accident and asked after Peter. I had to lie about seeing him because otherwise I would have to explain. She remembered feeling light headed in the lift and walking through the lobby but nothing until she woke up in the early hours of the morning. She told me to make sure Robert did not go off seeking revenge.

“He’s been drinking because he’s worried about me but I’m afraid he might do something drastic.”

I replied that Robert was too sensible to do something stupid but that was just to placate her. He seemed calm now but any drunker and his reason might leave him.

I sought out the rest of the females and found them in Sansa’s room. It felt like a prison with Circe guarding the door. She kissed me while looking at my relatives as if to say “He’s mine,” and then explained, “Robert told me to keep them here until the dinner bell rang. Harry tried to leave but I think we found out who was stronger.”

“I just wanted to piss in my own house,” countered Arya, “Now I’m trapped in this pink nightmare.”

I looked at Ceecee, reproachfully.

“What? I’m just obeying Robert’s orders.”

“Well I’m here now, so Arya run along but leave your parents alone.” Then in a whisper to Circe, “Stay with Sansa. I’ll deal with the young one,” before following the dark haired sibling.

“Arya, stop!” I yelled”

“What?”

“I know your sister has a bathroom so you didn’t need to leave. I thought I told you to be good.”

“Your girlfriend nearly broke my wrist,” she accused.

“She hates the situation as much as you. Look, we’ll go to your room and talk.”

“All right but promise you’ll tell me everything. You wouldn’t be here unless something was wrong” Arya said perceptively. I had no intention of telling about her parents’ affairs but we had built up some trust so I described the accident and how upset her father was by the death of Barry’s wife. I told her I thought her mother might have been involved explaining that she just wanted a ride in Baelish’s car. I recounted my visit to the gas station this morning and told her of the owner’s grief. She volunteered to help Barry in any way she could as thanks for the incident in Chinatown.

“Now, why don’t you tell me what happened there? Anything you tell me will be off the record as far as your parents are concerned. Your mother told me you were injured.”

“Let’s just say Jake and I thought we would experiment. We’re very sorry Jane got involved. We followed 2 men to that basement. They offered us something but then wanted us to pay for it. They tried to take all our money and Jake got knocked out. While Jane looked after Jake, I tried to escape. First, via the door which was locked, and then I tried to break the window so I could yell for help but there was a metal grill in the way.

“And that’s when they hit you?”

“No, I got some bruises as the men grabbed me. I fought well but I wasn’t strong enough. They tied me to a chair and then bound the other two. They had a heated discussion in Chinese, I think. They had gagged me initially but then the woman made us open our mouths and look at our teeth. She lifted Jane’s skirt and pulled my trousers down.”

Arya liked to wear trousers. She had developed womanly hips while she was in Germany and thought they suited her she claimed, although I thought it was just to differentiate herself from her sister as much as possible. She had told me, in the 19th century, female explorers often wore pants because they found it liberating. They kept her just as cool as dresses being fairly loose fitting but tight at the bottom almost like I imagined they wore in a Turkish harem although that was not opinion I was minded to pass on.

“She also squeezed our bubs. I think they were examining us. I heard you threaten the woman. Do you really think they were going to turn us into white slaves?”

“Slaves are slaves,” I told her, “There’s nothing special about being white,” apart from the price, I thought. “I was just looking to scare her so they wouldn’t do it again. I didn’t know I was right. Now I really will contact the Bureau but my guess is they will be long gone. I don’t suppose they want to risk bumping into Sandy and Barry again. By the way Sandy had some nice things to say about you.”

“I think he likes my sister.”

“Funny she says the same about you but, no, you’re his favourite. He likes that you treat him with respect. You have not told me how you got the bruise yet.”

“Well the men left. I think to speak to their bosses. I knew what time they would be back because one of them pointed to a clock. The stupid woman left the phone on the floor. I managed to topple my chair, lifted the receiver off with my mouth, used my face to call the operator and phoned you. Luckily I landed on a cushion so she didn’t hear me but when she found me on the floor she pulled me back up, tied me even tighter and threatened to chop all our heads off. I might have said something and she slapped me hard, so it was nothing really. I didn’t even cry.”

After her tale, the dinner bell went and I ate with Robert and the girls at the table while Circe took her meal up to her best friend. I spent the night there visiting Cat again and taking over the baby sitting duties.


	21. Arrest

The next morning the police came to question Caitlin. We sent the girls outside and I pleaded with them not to get involved while Circe and I stayed with Robert. The big man was threatening the police with “Do you know who I am?” but they were determined. He wanted them to wait until his lawyer arrived but the office said he was unable to make it until the next day. Robert put the phone down in disgust before he heard any alternatives.

I was a little surprised at the visit because in my experience the police did not move that quickly at the weekend, but perhaps the chance to tell their wives they had been to a celebrity’s house had spurred them on. They did accede to our requests that Caitlin should be allowed to prepare herself although they would not say for what but we all knew.

Eventually my cousin descended the staircase admittedly with a little help from Circe but she was definitely channelling the ethereal beauty and greeted the officers with her usual charming manner. It only occurred to me then that Caitlin did not know the full story or indeed most of it. The interrogation started in Robert’s study.

Only Robert was allowed into the interview with Cat, but Circe tried to listen in while I distracted the officer, something I would have thought she was better at. The strategy was not really necessary as all 3 of us could here Robert’s booming voice.

“She told you she doesn’t know anything,” he yelled, “How many times? I am going to call your superiors.” I knew these men. They were not the sort to be intimidated. However Robert had weight socially as well as physically and maybe he could pull some strings. The policeman with us was now paying enough attention to usher my girlfriend away from the door.

“She doesn’t know anything. It’s ridiculous. I thought you said your friend, Baelish, had confessed?”, Cersei questioned.

“My friend?”, I said sarcastically as recent information had revealed she was just as much his acquaintance as I was, “Clearly they wouldn’t be here if they had not interviewed him first.”

“I have had many accidents and they’ve never interviewed me.”

“Really?”

“Well, once or twice, but I have always sorted it out.”

I did not want to know how so I asked, “But nobody died?”

“Well I don’t think so,” she responded casually, as if she did not care if she had.

“So what did they say?” I whispered.

“They told her there had been an accident and that she had been in the car. I think they were suggesting she might have been driving.”

“Oh!” That was a bit of a shock. Even if that was true, I was convinced Baelish would have protected her. If he was so good at lying, how did he get caught out? But then Caitlin was his vulnerable spot. Perhaps the detectives saw that as well and he choked.

“Robert said she had probably been drinking, which was not helpful.”

“She was asleep when she arrived according to the maid. I guess Robert thought if he said that it would explain that she could not have been driving.”

“Yes but now they’ll ask how she came to be drunk and they’ll question us. It’s a bit of a mess.” Was Circe just thinking of herself? Probably. People in this house were generally selfish. Perhaps the girls were better off away.

Just then we heard a yelp and then that voice again. “How dare you show me … I mean her … that?”

“Calm down, sir?”

“I’ll have your badge, you little shit. Can’t you see you’ve upset her?”

“If you won’t sit down, I’ll have to ask you to leave this room.”

“It’s my room and I’ll sit you down.”

“Officer!”

We both got up as the policeman opened the door and rushed in.

Caitlin was screaming, “Leave him alone!”

Circe had a better view so I asked her what was happening.

“The junior detective is holding his shoulder. It looks like he’s hurt. The other 2 policeman are in front of him.”

“Any blood?”

“Can’t see any? The senior detective’s on the phone. Should we go in?”

I indicated that we should. The man on the phone looked at us putting his fingers to his lips and we waited while he spoke.

He had ordered a squad car and a medic. Robert was red with rage and Cat was also flushed and clearly upset.

“I am afraid I’ll have to take you to the station, Colonel.”

“Are you pressing charges, detective?” I said.

“We’ll see,” he replied, “But don’t try to get clever or you’ll be joining him. The interview is over for now, ma’am, but we shall want to speak to you again, soon.”

“But I keep telling you, I don’t remember. Not the crash, not the woman, not anything. Surely Peter told you that,” pleaded Cat through her tears.

Half an hour later the backup arrived as we consoled my cousin. When they saw another car arriving the girls came over to ask and I had to rush to hold Arya back.


	22. Day 1

So much had happened in the week after Robert’s arrest. What might have been swept under the carpet was now public knowledge when the papers discovered whose wife had been killed. They demanded justice for the war hero but it was not the currently elusive Baelish who was to go on trial, it was Cat. He had rung her several times but every time I tried to speak to him he brushed me off telling it was probably wiser if we did not meet until this all blew over. He claimed this was for Caitlin’s own good.

Instead of writing my novel, I was now spending much of my time at King’s Landing as a surrogate parent. My cousin was desperate that all this nasty business did not affect the girls so she insisted I still take Sansa to balls and Arya to look over new schools. With Sansa there was a lot of interest not only from families still keen to marry a Stark despite their current dip in reputation but also from the press. I could tell she was very conflicted. She kept on asking me what her mother was doing in Baelish’s car that night. In fact she asked about my neighbour a lot. She thought maybe she could persuade him to lie about who was driving. I told her we did not know the truth.

With Arya it was somewhat easier. We got on really well. Arya made friends easily. She was straight forward and open whereas her sister was coy and arrogant. However she never liked any of the schools instead wishing she could transpose the one from Germany to Long Island, specifically near enough so she could pop to Manhattan in the evening. Arya asked me where she could get hold of a gun like Barry’s but I told her she would just get herself killed. She was self aware enough to know I was probably talking sense even if she accused me of underestimating her gender.

Robert had become disillusioned with his own lawyers but I was still surprised when, no doubt at Baelish’s suggestion, his wife persuaded him to employ the best defence lawyer in New York, Vasos King. I made further attempts to see Baelish at his home. I still had the key to the secret door but he was always out according to his few remaining staff. They told me that there would be no more parties. What Peter’s motives were for avoiding me I was not sure but I was certain he would want to rescue the love of his life. Clearly the police believed she was driving but if that were true, was not he guilty of letting her take the wheel?

When Caitlin’s trial eventually began, all the immediate family attended except for Robert who was excluded due to the incident in the study. They did not realise the real reason for Robert’s anger was that they had made him look at pictures of his dead girlfriend’s damaged body. The guilt he felt about that plus his wife’s current predicament had made him quiet and unstable at the same time. The girls sat between me and their grandparents, the maternal ones. There was no chance of Robert’s father taking an interest. He was furious about the whole affair. Circe and Renton also turned up for moral support as did Baelish but he sat apart as did Barry and his supporters.

In his opening statements the prosecutor said their case was based on death by reckless driving. That the car belonged to Baelish was beyond doubt but they would then prove that driver was Caitlin. The Spider said that not only did Ash run out in front of the car but Caitlin was not driving.

The defence first called Barry who though we knew he had seen the accident now swore that the car had hit her deliberately and in fact seemed to swerve to do so. There was also a lot of talk of Selm’s war record which took up most of the first day. As we left for Ring Finger, Arya wanted to talk to Barry but I managed to stop her. I must have lost sight of Sansa because when we left the courtroom I spotted her in the corridor deep in conversation with Baelish. I sent her away and cornered him.

“Why on earth are you letting Cat take the flak for this?”

“I confessed as you suggested,” which was odd because I was certain it had been his idea, “but while telling the story I accidentally implied she was. I retracted it immediately but the idea was already in their head, old sport. I never make mistakes like that. The next day they said they had a witness who could prove she was driving. They were convinced I was protecting her. It is vital they don’t find out about our affair. The defence aren’t calling you are they, old sport?”

“Well that was stupid.”

“Don’t you think I curse myself every minute? The woman ran out. We did not stand a chance. The swerve was me trying to grab hold of the wheel to avoid her. Why did she run out?”

I could not tell him, no matter how desperate the situation. If the prosecution found out about Robert and Ash, then Caitlin had a motive and I did not trust Baelish even if I was beginning to believe him. We split before court officials questioned us. Although I was not a witness, associates of the defendant talking to a prosecution witness was frowned upon even if we were neighbours.

The Tullys followed us back to King’s Landing accompanied by their daughter who was on bail as Sandy drove me and the girls in the Rolls. It was a long sombre journey deliberately avoiding the scene of the accident.

“I just wanted to talk to Barry,” said Arya. “I know he does not blame mother. It’s just the press.”

“Why do you want to speak to him,” asked Sansa angrily, “He’s trying to put mother in jail.”

“No, that’s Baelish,” countered the younger sister.

“Stop it you 2. Sansa, Barry was just telling the truth. Arya, if Mr Baelish can save your mother, he will. I am convinced he will perjure himself rather than let her go to prison. We have the best lawyer possible,” I umpired.

“What’s perjure mean?” Arya asked.

“If you actually attended lessons at Rodean, you’d know that means lying under oath,” explained the redhead.

“And why would he do that?” pressed Arya.

Difficult to explain, or so I thought.

“Because he loves mother!” asserted Sansa, shocking me and Arya but maybe not Sandy.

“Does he, uncle?” appealed Arya.

I wanted to end this spat. “Just both of you, be quiet. Such speculation will get us nowhere. We’re here to support your mother, not accuse other people.” For the rest of journey the subject of the trial was off limits.


End file.
